Every Man Should Have a Hobby

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Every man should have a hobby.

Some guys like to collect stamps. Others climb mountains, scuba dive or garden.

Me? My hobby is fucking old women.

And like any worthwhile hobby, you’ve got to put the time in to make it worthwhile. I mean, if mountain climbing is your hobby, you know it’s about more than standing on the peak of the mountain. It’s preparation and the rigor of the challenge. Hell, you could have a helicopter take you to the mountaintop if that was all it was about.

And slamming your Mr. Johnson into old pussy and watching the aged, lined face go beatific while your jism gushes into the elderly womb and squeezes out into her matted gray cunt hair is sort of reaching the mountain top in my particular hobby. It’s the preparation that makes it all worthwhile.

I’m a salesman by trade. And I’m a damn good one, if I do say so myself. I’m in my early 30s and have grin-fucked my way up the corporate ladder so I’m pulling in some pretty nice change.

Over the last couple of years I have indulged my particular hobby with elderly neighbors, mothers (and in some cases, wives) of business partners and it’s been a good ride.

Contrary to what you read in some of these stories, real life old lady fucking involves more than whipping out your love hammer and slinging it in front of grandma to get her juices flowing – if she’s got any juices. If she’s like most of my conquests, she hasn’t been laid in some time and while she hasn’t exactly forgotten how to do it, she sometimes needs a little help getting started.

But there’s one thing she needs more than your 8-inch cock or a masterful style. She needs attention.

The one thing I’ve learned in the real world of porking old pussy is to work up slowly and give her the attention she either never gets anymore or never got.

In my case, I always keep good notes. I remember birthdays, special days, special foods, flowers. They’re harmless gestures that will not arouse the suspicion of an old woman like they would of a young one (believe me, I know. I fuck them too). But they are a constant reminder of your attention and it gets grandma thinking of you and sometimes those thoughts can go in pretty interesting directions.

Why did I get so interested in old nookie? I’m not sure, but it may go back to an experience I had while I was in the Navy about 10 years ago. Maybe I’ll tell you about it some time.

All I know is I love gently lifting an elderly dug and biting on the hardened nipple while she mews and presses my head to her naked tit. Very touching.

I love slobbering all over her fat belly and the joyful moment when she opens her chunky, veined thighs for me and, hesitantly at first, begins fucking herself on my hard and happy tongue while I wrap my arms around her droopy ass and drink it all in.

But ultimately, it’s the fuck that I’m really after. I’ll let her jerk me off if she wants to (old women love that. Dunno why) or if she’s got big, floppy tits, I’ll jerk off between ’em and spurt on her face. I love watching the globs of cum roll off while she smiles up at me through old, or false or non-existent teeth.

After that, she may want to get cleaned up or just wallow in my cum. Sometimes she’ll want to feed me. Isn’t that sweet? Whatever happens, though, sooner or later that day after I recharge my batteries, I set grandma down on the bed (stay away from the floors: too hard, too distracting) and give her a nice slow fuck. I love watching her old face smile, and then she’ll close her eyes while I speed up the rhythm, muttering, spittle starting to form on her lips. It’s great when she gets so carried away that she grabs my ass and forces my cock into her even deeper.

There we are, an old fat woman in a frenzy of lusty trying to push my whole body into her hungry cunt. Occasionally she’ll talk dirty, or what she thinks is dirty but usually the worst (best?)I get out of them is an occasional “fuck!” but more often “yes, yes, oh god, oh god” and an insistent pumping and when she shudders in orgasm, that’s when I pump my load and, boy, do they love that.

Recently I became bored with some of the more well to do old women I’d been banging. Don’t get me wrong, it was a real kick and I’ll go back for more but there’s a certain sophistication there that’s not as attractive to me. Plus they get demanding over time.

I’m not in this to form a relationship. I don’t want cards. I don’t want evenings at the symphony. I want to fuck an old woman (68-75 is my target range but I’m flexible) so when the elderly pussy gets too close to home, I move on. Eventually, they want me back and understand my rules. In fact, the only times I’ve had real luck fucking grandma’s ass has been during these “reconciliation sessions” (but see later). She REALLY wants to please me so the sky’s the limit. Naturally I’m only too willing to take advantage of the situation so I punch my cock into her old asshole and shoot my load then fall on her fat, wide ass while my cum drips down her crack. Is this heaven, casino oyna or what?

I was giving serious consideration to nursing homes. I’d love to test my luck with those old biddies but, honestly, I’m a little nervous about the situation. Too many people. Too much noise. I still may work something out, though.

Instead what I hit upon – and forgive me for taking so long to get to the point – was a win-win scenario. I get laid and perform a public service too. Okay, popping grandma may BE a public service, but that’s not what I meant.

My community has a food service for shut-in’s. It a wonderful volunteer effort where an army of enthusiastic helpers takes lunch to old folks who can’t easily get out of their homes. Sometimes you bring them lunch. Sometimes you play cards or just talk. They are so starved for attention, that they really love it. This is a good program and the folks who volunteer do good work.

Of course, my intentions are not as honorable. But here’s where the win-win business comes in. My company likes to have its employees do community service work in various clubs, civic groups, volunteer organizations and the like. So I offered to take part of my lunch hour a couple of times a week to deliver food to shut-ins. What a swell guy I am.

Boy, did the office like that! They thought I was an A-

fellow and the cute secretary in the transportation office down the hall took a particular liking to me and my generous volunteer service. We’re having drinks this Friday . . .

But, of course, all that was just a bonus. I am single-minded in pursuit of my hobby and that’s boffing an old woman. It was time to make a new friend.

Now I have pretty specific rules about my prey, er, I mean my old lady friends. They’ve got to be clean. They’ve got to have all their body parts . . . I guess those are pretty much all my rules.

Plus I never force them. I can be insistent and even demanding but if there’s the slightest indication of resistance or fear, I back off at once. I don’t want trouble. There’s lots more old nookie out there. Having said that, I’ve got to tell you that the best pat of the whole business is breaking grandma down so she WANTS me and I don’t HAVE to be forceful.

Well, things didn’t start out too well in my new “volunteer” program. To make a long story short, I went from place to place and was not real pleased with the picking’s.

First of all, some of the recipients of the hot lunches were men. That’s not gonna work. And they were really crabby men at that. Over time, I learned how to get different “customers” and worked the entire group of old women and, in my way, made notes on who held the most interest.

Frankly, there weren’t a lot. Maybe I was spoiled by the more worldly gals I’d been hammering or maybe these gals had been cooped up too long. Over time, I settled on a couple and decided to start with Linda.

Linda is about 70, maybe a little older. Her husband (“Billy could be kinda bossy”)has been dead almost 20 years and her only son and his family seldom get in touch with her. She lives on a small pension and has a clean house but lots of old books and magazines are stacked in the corners. I found this kind of creepy but I got used to it.

She’s in good health except she can’t see too well out of one eye. She has all her body parts, including teeth (it’s real sneaky how I get this information out of the ladies. Maybe I’ll tell you some time) and has a wardrobe of what appears to be 3 different dresses – all polka dots.

She doesn’t fuss a lot with her hair but it’s clean and gray and she poofs it up a little on the days she knows I’m coming, so I knew from the beginning she was looking forward to my visits. She can’t drive which was why we delivered the lunches to her and groceries sometimes.

Linda is a fat woman. There’s no other way to say it. Thick neck, thick legs, really fat ass and a nice Santa Claus belly. Her tits are so-so but I could tell they were in there. She wears nice shoes (I like that, don’t ask me why) and shaves her legs and under her arms. She has sweet breath and a pretty smile (so-so teeth) and always seemed happy to see me. To be honest, I was happy to see her too but I don’t want you to think I didn’t have my eyes on the prize . . . .

At first, I just dropped off lunch as I hustled off to check out other prospects. After I had more or less settled on her, however, I changed my tactics. I spent my entire lunch hour sharing her lunch and talking to her about things I learned she cared about: the weather, her dog (yep, forgot to tell you that) and, of all things, the Detroit Tigers.

So I boned up on Yorkshire Terriers and Al Kaline and we had a nice old time all the while I was thinking how I was going to run by hands up that skirt and check out what I knew must be a fat and hairy love mound.

I’ve learned over the years to bide my time when setting up to fuck on old woman. In Linda’s case, I was worried it might try even MY patience. She was very shy and always slot oyna made a point of spreading out her skirt over her fat thighs when she sat down. After a few weeks, she finally started to give me a little hug when I left and, eventually, another hug when I arrived. I would hold these a little longer than she wanted but eventually she acquiesced and would let me hug as long as I liked.

At first, it was the little “A-frame” hugs where bodies don’t touch but eventually I moved in the baby steps I take with old women to full body hugs and once I even pushed my cock against her belly and she didn’t seem to mind – or notice.

It was a couple of months into these visits that I came to her house one afternoon and found her crying or, rather, found that she HAD been crying. She told me it was dead husband Billy’s birthday and it reminded her how lonely she was. And then she smiled and looked at me “Except for you,” she said.

Forgive me for being cold but there are those moments in the old lady seduction process when you know you’ve made a breakthrough and right then I knew that, before long, I would be parking in Linda’s garage, if you get my drift.

I sat down on the sofa next to her and I remember smelling the macaroni and cheese I brought her and hearing her yappy little dog bark once as I wrapped my arms around her hefty shoulders and hugged her, holding my face to her surprisingly smooth neck. She began to whimper a little and I held her tighter and she held me back.

It looked like a very innocent scene and even a sweet scene if it weren’t for the growing bulge in my trousers.

I started kissing Linda’s neck and shoulders and slid my hand down to her waist. Her crying halted abruptly. I started muttering: “you sweet, sweet thing” and took her hand and held it which she let me do. Then while kissing her neck and whispering to her slightly, I took the back of her hand and rubbed it against my hardening cock.

Linda jerked it away as if I had stuck her with a poker which, of course, was my ultimate intention. She tried to stand up at once which was hard because of her weight and my arms around her but I took them away and looked up at her. She appeared to be shaking and speechless.

I stood up and tried to look confused but I was in full command of my senses. “I’m so sorry, Linda. I don’t know what came over me,” I said.

I moved to the door and looked back on Linda who had her fat arms like loaves of bread crossed in front of her body, the polka-dot dress shaking a little. “I know I’ve made you uncomfortable,” I said. “I won’t be coming back again. I’m so sorry. You’re a wonderful lady . . .” then I feigned tears and rushed out the door and into my car where I calmly lit a cigarette (don’t tell me to quit smoking – I know I should) and considered my next step.

I’ve used this ploy before with old women targets who, frankly, were a lot smarter than Linda. It’s the you-were-so-seductive-I-couldn’t-help-myself ploy and it works about half the time. I figured I had a pretty good shot with Linda.

After about a week and a half, though, I started to wonder. Then the meals-on-wheels folks called me up and said that Linda wondered where I’d been and would I mind making a lunch delivery to her today?

Oh, yeah, I would be making a delivery.

When I got to Linda’s house I noticed that she had somewhere found another dress and had put some make up on so she looked a little like an old, painted whore and, yeah, if you understand me by now, you know that turned me on. We hugged and pretended that nothing had happened before but she looked uncomfortable, as though she had something to say.

I’d seen this before which was why I made it a point to bring along a cold bottle of Chablis that we could share as a kind of “coming home.” We drank that half way down and fat old Linda finally hemmed and hawed and spoke her peace.

“I was afraid you weren’t coming back,” she said, her words slurring just a little. “I guess I’ve really gotten used to our visits and look forward to them. The truth is” (and she started to tear up some) “they’re the ONLY think I look forward to in my day.”

I looked sad-faced, dribbled a little more wine into her glass, then moved to hug her and, as if remembering my earlier “sin,” I held up my hand and smiled and said “No, I won’t make that mistake again.”

Linda just waved that “silly notion” away and took the offensive herself (after taking a healthy sip of Chablis) and hugged me hard and I let my lips touch her sweet-smelling neck and I wondered if she would ever let go until finally she let one hand sort of idly fall into my lap.

And this was the seminal moment – so to speak – when I knew I had her.

My cock wasn’t hard through a supreme act of restraint but I turned her head to face mine and stared into that aged and painted face (a sweet lady, really) and kissed her forehead, her cheeks and, finally, her lips which were dry and unparted. Her eyes stayed open but then she closed them and put a tentative hand canlı casino siteleri behind my head and held my face to her mouth while leaving her other hand on my lap.

“Brian, Brian,” she said. “I was so confused . . . I .. . well, I know you really like me.”

“Of course, I like you,” I said, acting I though I was startled at the very thought. “I just let myself go, I guess.”

“Oh, you sweet, sweet boy,” she said. “Come here, honey.” And she held me to her again and the back of her hand sort of see-sawed on the tip of my rising cock as though it were an accident.

I turned her head again and kissed her on the mouth, poking at her lips until they parted and I could taste the wine as her unpracticed tongue poked back at mine. How long had it been, I wondered, since she had been kissed like this?

I took a hand from around her waist and moved it up to her breast and felt the softness there and I felt a little shudder from Linda but it passed and she turned her hand around and felt my cock through my pants. There’s no way she could pretend this was an accident. She wouldn’t look at me, though. Instead, she looked over my shoulder while continuing to inexpertly caress my cock through my pants.

She started talking rather quietly, even seductively, as she continued to massage my prick. I felt her bulk and her warmth and her sweet floral scent. “Billy was never one for romance. Sort of did his business, you know, and went away . . .”

I kissed her neck and wanted to kiss her chest but the dress was zipped from the back. Instead, I boldly placed my hand in HER lap while kissing her, then ran my hand along until I got to the bottom of it and finally felt the warm bulk of her bare knee and put my hand on her leg so she froze for a moment, then began rubbing my cock faster.

“I can’t remember feeling like this. I almost feel like I’m going to swoon.”

Wasn’t that cute? Nobody says ‘swoon’ anymore but the idea of this fat old woman falling to the ground and pinning me wasn’t a pleasant one.

“You’re special,” I said rather dumbly, as though I were addressing a contestant in the Special Olympics.

“I’m so old and fat,” she said. “I know you must really care for me.”

Finally, those thighs I had thought about for months were under my fingers. Without waiting a moment, I ran my hand all the way up to her crotch and felt the tight panel of old lady panties against my sensitive fingertips. I began rubbing against her crotch with my fingers, feeling her thighs, kissing her neck and soon, quietly, without so much as a word of explanation, passion or concern, she started grinding against my fingers and kissed me hard, sucking on my tongue like it was a flat, red pecker.

“You’re wonderful and you’re lovely,” I said and for once, I meant it.

That’s all Linda needed. She took her hand from my cock and wrapped both meaty arms around my neck and kissed me hard, tongue dancing around wildly, eyes closed. I peeked at the drooping folds of her fat arms and could just about see part of one tit.

I rubbed against her pussy for a bit, then massaged her fat thighs and, in the process managed to pull her long skirt up. She wanted to kiss which is okay for a while but I wanted other excitements. Finally, as though it were an afterthought, she took one hand from around my neck and felt my dick through my pants. She looked down at it, then into my eyes.

Her makeup was already smeared and with her skirt halfway up her legs, it was a pretty exciting picture. She bent over to unzip my fly and when she did that, I quickly unzipped her dress in the back and reached down at the same time to unhook her bra.

Despite the thickness of her panties, I could feel her starting to cream and I worked the fabric into her slit easily now. In the meantime, she had managed to pull my rock hard dick into the open where its one expectant eye looked up at Linda’s one good one. She grasped it with her fat, fleshy fingers and began to stroke it lightly. Her fingers felt papery but warm.

“Sweetheart,” I whispered, “hold your hands together for a moment.”

Linda looked at me, her eyes a little wild now, then put her hands together so I could slide off the top of her dress. As she did so, her bra hung on to her tits which were bigger than I had expected. She put both hands on my prick and I whisked off her bra and took in those glorious titties.

You just never know with boobs. Some are flat, some round, some lumpy but Linda’s were droopy with great big brown nipples. I massaged one and started sucking hungrily on the other while massaging her clit through her panties.

Finally, I stood up and took my pants off while Linda remained sitting, her skirt hiked up to her waist with the top of her dress resting in her lap, the great floppy tits and wonderful nipples hanging out, hard and ready.

“Brian,” she breathed a little heavily, as though trying to pretend she was not aroused and breathless. “What are you going to do?”

Some grandma’s you can say “I’m going to fuck you raw until you scream for me to stop” or “I’m going to cum all over you and squeeze your big, fat ass.” You’ve got to know what to say. These weren’t the words for Linda, I knew. Call it a gift.

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