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When I was a younger man, 20 years ago now, I was just 68 and I lost my wife. That same year Edna lost her husband. She was 81 or 82 at the time. Our houses were across the street from one another. She’s gone now but I remember her well. I enjoyed her company as she did mine. We always found things to talk about. Our relationship kept the wolves of loneliness at bay and illumined the approaching darkness that would spell the end of our twilight years. And as it turned out, she retained a lively interest in and enjoyment of sex.

Edna was still in decent shape for her age but her years showed. She kept her hair strawberry blond and maintained with weekly coiffures. But her face, once comely, was replete with lines as though it had been crumpled like a piece of paper and then smoothed out but the creases still showed. Her ass had lost more than a little of the firm roundness of earlier years and flattened a bit. Of course she had put on some weight over the years and had five children so she had a matronly belly; not folded over mind you but rather an inviting mound of warm soft flesh. It overshadowed her pubic mound and fulsome vulva, naughty parts that turned out to be deliciously plump and pleasing once I gained a purchase on them; having worked through Edna’s initial nerves and indecision.

As far as I could tell she still had all her faculties. You may think she had become a bit addled; goodness, at her age to read how we came to enjoy and gratify each other. Fortunately she had the constitution of an ox. We never had penis penetration intercourse. I couldn’t because I’d had my prostate removed and could no longer gain more than a semi-hard phallus. Her vagina understandably had thinned and become less moist than when excited in her earlier years. But she showed me that a woman in her eighties could orgasm; orgasms of squirming, thrusting intensity that left her sweaty and satiated.

The secret to Edna’s stunning and fiercest orgasms lay in her ever-beckoning and keenly sensitive over-sized nipples; nipples that adorned glorious matronly breasts.

Despite the wear and tear of her age, Edna had three physical attributes, or should I say five that stood out; her lovely and delicate feet, her ample and exquisite breasts with such fulsome nipples and her inviting vulva and clitoris. As our relationship deepened I found that she loved to have these body parts caressed, fondled, rubbed, patted, kissed, licked and sucked. I happily did them all.

But it was my increasingly overt admiration of her breasts that brought us intimately together. That really is the focus of my story so let us turn our attention to the first exquisite time I attended her beautiful breasts.

We had lived across the street from one another for at least 15 years when death made us both single after very long marriages. Edna and Jim, her late husband, were neighbors who became friends. As time passed I would see Edna enjoying the day sitting on her front porch. She never wore dresses; always a pair of slacks and a blouse or sweater. She dressed her age. Since there was nothing to fire the imagination to be seen below the waist, what with loose fitting slacks, but over time, as we visited periodically I became conscious that she was generously endowed.

One day when we were chatting about nothing worth mentioning and my gaze dropped to her chest. I willed myself to look up and return to eye contact. This went on for several cycles up, down, up, down and up. Edna obviously became aware that I could not restrain myself from ogling her prominent breasts. I say obviously because she reacted; not in any overt or vocal way. She continued to chat. But her nipples began to obtrude and grew until two remarkably pronounced nubbins showed in her sweater. A slight smile came to her lips. Our dialogue continued for a few more minutes. At one point she moved her hand to her chest resting her fingers lightly on her sweater. For a moment I thought she was going to succumb to an urge to caress one of those turgid nipples. But she just let her fingers slip down a bit then removed her hand. I did not, could not grow erect, but blood did flow to my penis and my anxious glans tingled.

After that day I saw Edna as a woman with a definite sexual dimension and no longer viewed her as merely a pleasant old lady who lived across the street. Time passed. Edna and I developed an unacknowledged charade with one another. One of us would initiate an impromptu mailbox meeting or a neighborly sit down visit. Then we would work our way through another session of thinly veiled erotic teasing. I caressed her tits with my warm gaze and her body invariably responded; producing those two remarkable and very erect nipples; they strained against a substantial bra and outer garment to an extent that they were clearly apparent despite the confining layers of fabric. We would smile at one another; sometimes enhancing our arousals with some sort of innuendo or mild double-entendre. I might say, “It’s always pleases me to see you. Are you up for a little conversation?” Or, “I’ve enjoyed being with you today (pause) I mean something always comes up… I mean to talk about.” Edna might remark, while standing up from her rocker, “There, I’m up again. Now I’ll have to go in and take care of things.” I came to learn later just what she meant.

Edna and I grew comfortable with one another, visiting on her front porch when it was not too hot and humid; our sessions growing more frequent as time passed. When one of us happened to be out the other would find some reason to go outside also. There was no formality; no calling up and making a date or dining together. Always in the background was this mutually pleasant sensuality; not a buzz of excitement but a soft hum of titillation. We chatted so much in our rocking chair sessions that we covered a broad gamut of topics learning much about each other’s lives and thoughts; until one day she opened the door to a remarkable new level of intimacy.

* * *

We sat together as we so often did. “Kenneth you remind me of an old saying,” she remarked with a little smile.

“Huh,” I cleverly responded. “What old saying is that?”

“Men quit thinking about ‘it,’ about 15 minutes after the last shovel of dirt is tossed onto their graves.”

I knew “it” was sex but I said, “What ‘it’ is that?”

She said, with laughter in her voice, “Oh, you know quite well what “it” I’m talking about; ‘It’ is sex. You certainly think about sex.” Some color rose in her cheeks and I could see a flush rising in her neck. More evident of her tense excitement was the erection of her two nipples that now roused and elongated. Despite the substantial bra she wore to cantilever her ample breasts, before my eager eyes her surging nipples produced those mouth watering protrusions once more; yes hidden and restrained by her garments, outer and within, but nevertheless palpably revealing Edna ‘s stimulation.

I did not hesitate to pursue the path down which she appeared to beckon. “What makes you think I am preoccupied with sex?”

“Now Kenneth,” Edna said, “I know, have known for decades that men like my breasts and they are always fondling them with their eyes. You do it too. Tut, yes you do. When we are talking you can’t keep your eyes on my face. You’re always peeking down at my big breasts.”

I said, “I’m glad you brought this out into the open Edna. It could not have been easy. I admit I have come to enjoy gazing at your tits…um, your breasts and the flirty innuendo we’ve indulged in. I’ve gained a strong impression that you’ve been pleased with my ogling; that you’ve not been offended.”

“You’ve enjoyed watching my nipples become erect like they are now, haven’t you?” She brought her hands up and rested her fingers lightly on the top of each inviting mound.

“Oh, yes. Very much,” I answered. Warmth spread in my groin. With difficulty I stayed my hand from reaching into my crotch to squeeze my dick. I hoped the shimmering vision I thought I could see ahead would be an oasis in the desert of my sex life.

Edna clearly had taken a decision and she hurried on now; seemingly anxious to get past her opening gambit; lest some repressed inner voice restrain her from continuing and prevent her throwing wide open the entrance to the path down which she now invited me.

“Jim loved my breasts, ‘titties,’ he called them,” she went on. “And I loved to have him suck on my nipples. Goodness, I could actually have orgasms by the things Jim did without even putting his penis in me.”

This explicit sex talk stimulated and aroused me greatly. She briefly fondled her nipples and smiled at me with a mix of girlish demureness and mischief in her warm gaze.

My throat was suddenly dry and constricted but I managed to croak out, “I’d like to hear about that.”

Edna stood up. “Kenneth let’s go inside and get a drink. I’ve made some lemonade and you sound as though your throat is dry.”

“Sure, okay,” I said my mind clouded by the lust gathering in me. I followed her inside, desperate for this development to continue to unfold; anxious that I might say or do something that would burst the bubble of erotic reverie in which Edna now indulged. Would this lead to fondling those inviting mounds? Would I at last realize my fantasies of touching flesh on flesh?

Edna poured us each a glass of lemonade over ice. I gratefully gulped half of mine down. We went to the sunroom. Edna sat on the sofa and I pulled the foot stool over and sat in front of her.

“Where was I, Kenneth?” She smiled mischievously.

“You loved it when Jim made love to your breasts; when he sucked your nipples,” I prompted.

“Well, he caressed them, of course. He ran his palms over my nipples.” She demonstrated. I figuratively bit my knuckle and nodded my goofy approval. “He pulled on my nipples and twisted them; not hard, just enough to send yummy sensations zooming to my, well you know where. He used his tongue to lick and flick my nipples. That felt so good. When he licked them and then sucked me… oh that was so stimulating. Dear me, am I making you uncomfortable; so thoughtless of me?”

“No, no, Edna, not at all. Please continue,” I said anxiously. “This is very, very … um stim .., err exciting.

“You do miss Jim don’t you?” I swallowed hard and croaked out my keen insight.

“I do, yes.”

“And you miss the pleasure Jim gave you?”

“Yes, I miss that too, very much.”

Taking a deep breath, I plunged on. “I can’t be Jim but if you want me to, I could…, actually I’d really like to feel of your breasts, you know, play with them for a bit?” I felt sure that was exactly what she wanted to hear.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose my old lady longings on you Kenneth,” Edna said, then quickly added, “But if you don’t mind and you want to, well then okay. But if I want you to stop you must.”

I easily agreed. I did not push my good fortune and did not ask her to take off her blouse and bra. If she wanted to do so fine; if not I hoped that would come about spontaneously.

I put the footstool under Edna’s short legs and made her comfortable. I lifted her feet and kissed the top of each one as I put them on the footstool.

Edna sighed. “I’ve always liked to have my feet petted and kissed like that as well.”

“We’ll come back to your pretty feet,” I said.

Then I stood behind the sofa and caressed Edna’s shoulders eliciting contented sighs. Slowly I moved my hands down so that my finger tips rested lightly on just the upper edge of her bra clad breasts.

I am fortunate that post-prostatectomy I do not have any incontinence; save in one circumstance. When I am sexually aroused I do make an uncontrolled squirt or two; exuding a small amount of clear viscous fluid, not urine but a constituent of the admixture that emerges as semen in the ejaculate of an intact male.

Now as I ministered to Edna’s wonderful breasts I felt myself squirting once, and then once more making a damp spot in my trousers front. Then I was able to regain control although I knew there would be some dribble of the clear substance I mentioned.

Edna sighed contentedly as I massaged through both blouse and bra cups. But her sturdy bra sharply attenuated the tactile pleasure to be had by naked touch.

I leaned over the sofa and said; my mouth close to her ear, “Do you like this?”

“Oh, very much,” she replied. One arm reached up and she caressed my cheek. “Put your hands inside my bra if you want.”

How delighted I was to hear that invitation.

“Why don’t you let me unhook it for you? It will be easier to get my hands on them.”

She leaned forward and unbuttoned her blouse. I bunched the tail out of the way and exposed her back. I kissed her bare flesh and smelled her scent. My hands trembled as I undid the bra hooks. Then I slipped my hands once more down her chest but this time sliding them under the cups.

I’m sitting here trying to think of a metaphor that would adequately describe the sublimity of that moment when I first caressed those glorious breasts, sliding my palms across her hard erect nipples Had I been 18 again I would have blown my load. My aging warrior valiantly tried to stiffen to attention. But regretfully he twitched and tingled although thickening and elongating a bit in his effort.

“Oh, Kenneth darling,” Edna said softly, “your hands feel so good. Do you like the way my breasts feel now that you have your hands on them at long last? I’m so old and they sag now.”

I was astonished that she should think I would be other than thrilled speechless to have her luxurious tits in my hands.

“Edna the only thing I can think of that would be more wonderful than fondling your beautiful breasts would be if you let me kiss and suck on them too.”

She said, “I so hoped you would want to. I would love that. Come around to the front now and take a nipple in your mouth.”

If I had known the ultimate fullness of Edna’s response when I made love to her breasts; had I known the remarkable sensitivity of her nipples; had I known the force of her response before it manifested itself I might have been frightened to suck and lick her as I did.

In any event I did not. Straightaway I took a large, erect nipple in my mouth; a nipple I had for years longed to taste. I kissed it. I licked it. I sucked it with an elongating hard pull.

Edna reacted with a long, shuddering sigh.

“Ahhhh,” she said, “That feels so good. Keep doing that. Nibble it gently.”

I kept doing that. The nipple I was not at the moment sucking, licking and nibbling, I fondled, gently pinching, pulling and rubbing it.

Edna communicated increasing pleasure as I bent to my happy task. Her breathing quickened; she sighed, she groaned, she grunted. Her hands came to my head and pressed my face into the pillowy soft flesh.

At least half an hour passed as I slobbered open-mouthed taking in, not just a nipple but a generous helping of that soft surrounding flesh that I now sucked hard. I worked her breasts and nipples, eagerly moving back and forth from one to the other. Edna began humping her thighs as the sensations energized an apparently direct circuit from nipples to cunt.

“Ahhh, like thaaat, ohhhh yes, ooooh do that, suck me, suck me Kenneth. Ooooohhh, suck me hard. I am, ugh… I’m ahhh. Oh, oh, Eeeeeee.”

She clutched my face fiercely to her breast and strained her hips upward, as though impaling herself on a phantom shaft, a spontaneous reaction to the orgasm that burst through her.

She cried out. She thrashed about. Then she collapsed. I saw a growing wet stain spread in the crotch of her slacks. I pulled back and saw that her eyes had rolled up and, while open, they were unfocused.

Momentarily it scared the shit out of me. It flashed through my mind that I had killed the old woman. I cried out “Edna! Edna! Talk to me! Edna, wake up!”

Then I noticed her chest rising and falling as she sighed deeply and began to breathe again. Slowly her eyes focused on me and a silly grin began to spread across her face.

She glanced at her tits, wet with my saliva; then saw her wet slacks.

“Oh you naughty, naughty man,” she said smiling. “You sent me to heaven and made me wet my pants. Help me get out of these wet things.”

And I did. She had a long, plump camel toe and a fat clit protruded from the apex. It still pulsed from aftershocks of her incredible orgasm. Her labia were slack and flexing as well; droplets of moisture clung to her thin pubic hair. How anxious I was to put my mouth on her cunt, my tongue in it.

But she read my mind and strongly pleaded that I not to touch her sex because it was yet too sensitive from the massive cum she had.

I helped her clean up. We kissed and I tucked Edna in her bed for the night.

“Good night darling Kenneth,” Edna said. “I am so surprised with myself. My goodness what a wonderful orgasm you gave me. But it just pooped me out. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Come over tomorrow. When I am rested I will suck your penis. Would you like that?”

Before I could answer the old woman was asleep. But I thought to myself that yes, yes indeed I would definitely be over to see Edna tomorrow.

If there is interest I will write more about my further intimacy with Edna.

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