We hadn't seen Timmy in awhile.
It was on Fourth of July that I had made the dear boy's sexy acquaintance, at a party at my house, discovering by happenstance how long his tongue was and then forcefully availing myself of the magic of that tongue in the pantry while my guests left for the beach to watch fireworks.
Later that evening, and into the wee hours, I shared his talents with my sexy friend, Linda, another wonderfully sexy older gal of 62, just three years older than me. And the next day at the beach, we'd "loaned" out the services of our oral slave, just about wearing out the 18-year-old's superb tongue.
But then, the last of a string of sexy older women who visited our cabana, took Timmy away. I suppose it was acceptable. After all, Pat, a beautiful sexy gal of 69, was the boy's grandmother.
"I miss that kid, Veronica, it's been over a week since she absconded with him," Linda sighed one day as we worked out at our local gym, honing our senior citizen bodies into firm muscle beneath somewhat saggy, sexily wrinkled skin. "God, that long tongue of his was amazing, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, I know, that boy certainly knew his way around a pussy," I laughed as we pedaled furiously on the stationary bikes. "Hope Pat is getting her satisfaction now that he's staying with her for awhile. Nice to see a boy take care of his granny like that."
"Not fair," Linda said. "Share the wealth, ya know?"
We laughed, continuing our workout and then leaving the gym, going our separate ways. I was a sweaty mess this hot day, but I needed some groceries, so stopped by the store adjacent to the gym, hoping to not run into anyone I knew. My tight t-shirt was soaked through, as were the short silky green short shorts I wore.
And in the produce aisle, there was Timmy, poking through the cucumbers. I smiled, walking up behind him and looking around to make sure no one was watching, grabbed the shaggy-haired blonde by his ass.
"You got those beat, kid," I hissed into his ear before he spun around, stunned.
"Mrs. Leonard!" he gasped. "I...it's nice...I mean..."
"Where've you been, boy?" I laughed, loving his nervousness. "Things, uh, working out at your granny's house?"
"They certainly are, Veronica," I heard a lilting voice say.
I turned and there was Pat, Timmy's sexy grandmother, wearing a lovely print dress that rode up her wrinkly but strong thighs, thighs that a week earlier on the beach had spread wide for her grandson's talented tongue in my beach cabana and then folded in a fleshy embrace around his face as he ate her to a grinding orgasm.
"Well, that's lovely, Pat, lovely," I smiled. "Do be a dear and you know, send him back our way if you tire of him. Though I doubt that's possible."
"Quite right, quite right," Pat laughed, as Timmy stood nervously between us, smiling sheepishly, as Pat and I eyed the boy up and down.
"I understand why you miss the boy," Pat sighed. "But Carey and I are enjoying him so."
Carey was Pat's gorgeous 39-year-old daughter, a younger, carbon copy of her mom, with blonde hair and a very pretty face and a rock-solid body. Carey was an athlete, runner, marathoner, weight lifter and the muscle genes ran deep in the family, along with, apparently, the incestuous sexual appetite.
"How is Carey, I haven't seen her in ages?" I asked Pat.
"Ask her yourself, Veronica," Pat laughed. "Here she is."
Carey beamed as she walked up to us, looking gorgeous as always, her hair perfect, and that body on display nicely in her very tight white top and matching shorts, her thighs chiseled and firm, calves diamond-cut muscles rising above slender ankles. The girl was beyond hot, and I licked my lips looking at her, thinking of the sexual trysts the granny-daughter-son combo was enjoying.
"You look great, honey, but you always do," I said, giving Carey a big hug. "I'm sorry, I'm so sweaty, I just left the gym."
"Not to worry, Veronica, it's good to see you...and see you keeping in such delicious shape," she growled, eyes widening as they drank me in. "Truly delicious..."
"Oh, stop, stop," I blushed. "Just trying to keep my figure up, that's all..."
"Oh, and you do, you do," Pat sighed.
There was a moment of silence, thick and noticeable, broken when Pat chimed in with, "If you're not doing anything this afternoon, why don't you stop by for a quick drink. We can, you know, catch up."
Timmy's eyes widened at the words. As did mine. The three women smiled broadly as Timmy shifted nervously from foot to foot.