The Old Man and His Wife

I would often walk alone in the Park in the summer holidays or at weekends in the fall. I liked being alone. On this particular day I was daydreaming of an incident on the bus the day before. A woman had sat down opposite me with her shopping bags on her lap and beside her. In her struggles she had parted her legs and I had been given a clear and wonderful view of her legs above her stockings and her rather baggy underclothes. The complicated stocking straps fascinated me. She saw me staring and closed her legs, but as she got up to leave she gave me another stare and parted her legs widely. I should have followed her, I suppose, to see if anything would develop. I didn't because I realized that was just desperation for any kind of sexual moment. It wouldn't happen again. That was all I was going to get.

The next day, warm summer day, there I was lying down in the sun, to the West of a big Oak tree. Dreaming of legs, stocking tops, and even the evocative sight of the small bumps that were beginning to show on my sister's chest. I took a quick look around to see if the place was deserted enough for me to try a little masturbation. Those glimpses had lit a fire in my hormones.

There was a man who seemed elderly to me at the time, but who was probably about 50, strolling across the large grass area toward me. I moved my hands away from my flies. He strolled by me and stopped. Had he seen me? Would there be trouble?

'Will you keep a watch out while I have a pee by the trees?' He asked. 'I'll give you a florin.' I gave him a careful look. He was clean, pleasant looking. Not much danger, and I might even get a glimpse of an adult penis to add to my library of fantasies. I got up and we walked to the trees. It wasn't the Florin, or his penis, really. It was the prospect of a new experience, although no glimpse he could offer could compete with what I really wanted -- a woman. We reached the trees and, after a quick look around he got his dick out.

'Why don't you have a pee, too? He asked. I thought that was pretty naïve, but I didn't mind. I got my dick out, which was already semi-hard and he predictably moved a bit closer. Then he reached out and got hold of it, quite gently. He began to rub me, again quite gently. I got properly hard, but I noticed that he did not. These years later I realize he had lost the ability to have an erection. Then, I didn't remark on it.

After having another look around, he knelt down and took my dick in his mouth. Nice. I had heard of it, but never even seen it, let alone experienced it. I pushed my dick forward and he bobbed. It wasn't long before I came in his mouth. He seemed delighted, and we walked back over the big lawn to a central spot where we were too far away for casual passers-by to see us, and sat down. Then we lay facing on another. I don't think there were any other people in the park at all to notice or be suspicious. He got his limp dick out again and I massaged it for him, but it didn't get any harder. He massaged me, and I did. We talked. I never knew his name although from that point I knew him for two or three years. I now know that 'Penile Erectile Dysfunction' does not preclude masturbation. Then, I just sensed that he desperately needed to cum. I took his dick and began to masturbate him as firmly, but as gently, as I could. Eventually he came quite a lot, spurting over he grass. I had never seen a man cum before and was fascinated. He wanted me to suck his cock, but I wasn't ready. He sucked me off once more and we parted after making a date to meet later the coming week.

Once, during this time, we went to a more private place and he kept fingering my bottom. I was young and unlined then. I thought, well, why not? I knew he was a clean old codger. I dropped my pants and he tried to get enough of an erection to stuff it in me. It just would not get hard enough. The poor devil was nearly in tears. I wondered why he didn't go with one of the sad women who hung about on the High Street at pub closing time, but in retrospect I think he didn't want the chance of a prostitute laughing at his inability.

I was filled with compassion for him, but there was no homosexual 'love' involved. This was sexual relief and experience, and gentle, without threat or extreme passion. I wouldn't have cared for that, and neither would he.

A few weeks later, as we lay down on the grass in the woods where we had found a very private spot, and, on an impulse, I took his dick in my mouth. It wasn't a bad sensation. It got a bit harder, and I persevered. He helped by vigorously rubbing the base. At last I felt it throbbing a little and kept up the steady bobbing. He came with a great sigh. It didn't taste nasty; although I wasn't sure I would do it for anyone else.

I sucked his cock for him a couple of times after that, but masturbating whilst sucking me seemed to give him as much satisfaction. Once, he did get it hard enough to try sodomy again, and I was willing. His blood sugar must have been low and got it in, but the excitement was too much and came at once. His face reflected the bliss he felt though, and to tell the truth I felt good about it too. Why not? He was a good man. We spoke, or rather I did, of how good it would be to touch a woman and to have her touch you. He volunteered the view that it was indeed very good, but that he didn't care for it these days.

I didn't push the matter but hoped he might be able to help, and not long after that, to my astonishment, he did. He came to our meeting place in the park with a woman. She wasn't a young woman. Thin, poorly dressed. She was clutching a large handbag and looked fearful. It was his wife. I have no idea what story he told her, but she seemed to be, as many wives were in those days, completely subservient to her husband. We all sat down and talked. It was clear that he had primed her in some way. He motioned for me to do the same, and took his dick out. I thought, well, if she screams and makes a fuss, I could run faster than they can.

My dick got hard and he told her to hold it. She did. She rubbed gently, still holding her handbag. He rubbed his own. The he told her to open her dress and let me touch her breasts. It was evident that there had been some preparation, because she had no bra. I fondled the little flat breasts she had and felt her hand squeeze my dick a little bit harder as she rubbed it, and I knew she could feel me get really hard. The old man saw the effect of all this and spoke to her quietly.

She took her hand off me and pulled up her dress, after a fearful look around. There was no one about. I was so excite I didn't even look at her sex, but heaved on top of her and felt her legs open to let me in. There was a moment of fumbling and badly aimed pokes and suddenly I was in her. It was shear bliss. I felt the warmth, the wetness, the sound of her breath, the feel of her thighs around me...the building of the moment and the sudden wonderful rush. It was so different from giving myself a hand, or even his mouth. He sat beside us, smiling and jerking his member.

After a few moments I got off her and helped her to sit up. I saw that she had relaxed. She was smiling and asked him for a cigarette. We talked a little, and I said that it was a wonderful and glorious experience and could we do it again, please? They murmured together for a little while. Then she said that I was a nice boy, and if it could be kept a secret, well it would be OK.

We met often after that. Not regularly. Once or twice we went to their small house where I experienced the joy of naked flesh pressed on to the other. I still helped the old man, and this was a kind of quid pro quo, I suppose.

After a couple of years, perhaps three, it all stopped. I walked past their house, and once even rang the bell, but there was no answer. They just disappeared. I never knew what happened to them, I never even knew their name. He was a very gentle and nice man, and she was a wonderful partner, more acquiescent than subservient, not full of faked passion, always in charge of herself. They never once made any sexual gesture to each other. I wonder why that was?