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I have no idea what you're thinking, but any type of relationship never crossed my mind. Like I said, Marge was about sixty and I was thirty. I thought of it as just a cordial extension of our golf round. Call me naïve.

Why would Marge have any romantic interest in me? And why would she think I'd have any romantic interest in her?

I arrived first and secured a table. Marge looked good when she walked in: pink shorts, white blouse, tied at her mid-riff. Her grey hair was perfect. Like I said, she looked good. She looked good for a sixty- year-old woman.

"Tom, this is the closest I've come to a date in over a decade. Thanks for doing this."

I wouldn't call it date. "I had to eat; you had to eat. After golf, pizza and beer is just about perfect."

Marge ordered a beer, too.

When we finished, "Tom, how about a nightcap. I could use something stronger than beer."

Still, I thought nothing of it. Besides, even if she had something in mind, I could walk away.

Marge lived not more than ten minutes from the pizza place, five minutes from the golf course and less than two miles from my apartment.

"It's still really warm out, why don't you make yourself comfortable on the porch. I have a pitcher of margaritas in the fridge.

I found an Adirondack chair on the porch; a porch which overlooked her pool. "Here ya' go." Marge handed me a glass and sat down next to me with her own margarita.

We chatted about golf, my work, her grandkids, Nothing indicated that there was anything romantic on her mind. That changed shortly after the second margarita. "Tom, are you as hot as I am?"

"It is warm. I don't think the temperature has gone down since this afternoon."

"That's what I was thinking. Want to go for a swim?"

"I don't have . . ."

"I know, and as you can see, I'm not wearing one." She took my hand and led me toward the pool. Once there, she took off her blouse and shorts. Marge stood there in her bra and panties: a sixty-year-old grandmother.

"I'll take off the rest, once you catch up," she laughed.

I was reluctant. Not because I was embarrassed. It's just that I'd been skinny dipping with a woman a number of times, it always, and I mean it always led to sex. I wasn't interested in sex with Marge. I'll say it again, standing there in her bra and panties, she didn't look too bad. She didn't look too bad for a sixty-year-old grandmother. She didn't look too bad after a couple of beers and a half pitcher of margaritas.

What I was interested in was cooling off. It was fucking hot even though it was after nine o'clock at night. It might have still been close to ninety. I got down to my briefs. "That's better, Tom."

Marge started to take off her bra. I quickly turned away, took off my jockeys and dove in. Just as I came up, I heard a splash. Marge popped up on the other side of the pool. I assumed she was as naked as I was.

"Now, don't you feel better?" she called.

"The water feels great." We were both in water up to our shoulders, and of course, it was dark. Not saying, I had any interest in seeing Marge naked. I'd seen more than enough when she was down to her bra and panties.

She started moving toward me. "Tom, I do this most nights when it's this warm. I've never had a guest join me. It's fun to have company."

"I'm glad you invited me. The margaritas were great."

By now, she was almost next to me. "Oh, Tom, I wasn't talking about the margaritas. At my age, do you have any idea how thrilling it is to have a handsome young man with me like this?"

"I don't know what to say, Marge."

"When I say like this, I mean naked." She put her arms around me. I felt her breasts against my chest. This was not what I expected. And to be truthful, not anything I wanted. Like I said, I didn't have a girlfriend and it had been a while since I'd gotten laid, but I couldn't imagine fucking Marge.

My body had a different idea. I should say my cock had a different idea. It was hard. I wasn't the only one that felt it. "Tom," she laughed, "is that a gun in your pocket. Oh wait, you don't have any pockets."

She rubbed her leg against my stiff cock. "Marge, I don't think . . ."

"You didn't think that being naked with little old me would excite you. Let me tell you what I know. When men are around a naked woman, their brain stops working and their cock takes over." Now, her hand was underwater, playing with my stiff cock. At the same time, she kissed me on the mouth.

"Well, I have to admit, that your hand feels good."

"And I can't tell you the last time I had the pleasure of a cock so hard." Her hand was more active. "That's the other thing about young men; they get so hard. By the way, Tom, it's been decades and decades since I've had any interaction with a cock as young as yours. And at least a decade since I've had any cock. Let me enjoy it."

Marge played and we splashed around, mostly in shoulder deep water.

A while later she was in my arms and seemed to get serious. "Tom, I may be an old lady, but as you can tell, I'm enjoying playing with you." Yes, her hand was still playing with my still hard cock. "I'd also like to be played with."

Marge took my hand and put it on her breast. "Marge . . ."

"Tom, don't say anything, just feel me up for a while. Feel up my titties."

She kissed me on the mouth. Those old lady tits were bigger than I expected, and softer than any I'd ever been in contact with before. The women I dated and my ex-wife's were firm; some were bigger than Marge's, some not, but all were much, much firmer. I liked her softness.

She pulled away from the kiss. "Tom, when I was young, I had a reputation. Let me be blunt. I had a reputation for having a talented mouth. I think my ex-husband married me for my skillful mouth."

"Marge, you don't need to tell me any of this."

"Yes, I do. I do because I want you to know, that although it's been ages, I'd be so thankful if you allowed me the pleasure of your cock."

"I-I. . ."

"Tom, you'd be the first man in history to turn down a blowjob. That sounds so risqué for a woman my age, doesn't it? Blowjob, blowjob, blowjob." She laughed. "Why don't we get out, get dried off, and I can show you how I pleased my ex-husband?" Marge dragged me out of the pool. My cock was still hard.

"My God, Tom, underwater it felt like you had a big one, but my oh my. Now, my mouth is really salivating."

We finished drying off and Marge led me back to the porch. She sat me down in the same Adirondack chair as before, and got on her knees. It wasn't the best blowjob I'd ever had. Not even close, but no woman seemed to enjoy doing my cock more than Marge. She was like a kid on Christmas morning with a new toy.

Licking, kissing, sucking. "Tom, I'm so out of practice, bear with me. I'm sorry."

I laughed. "Marge, there's no reason to apologize. I can't remember my cock being so hard."

"It's harder than any I remember, and Tom much bigger." She put it back in her mouth.

About my cock being big. In college, a few girls I tried to fuck said it hurt too much. But they were college kids who might have been virgins. Sometimes when my wife and I were fucking, she'd make some reference to "give me that big cock." I never thought about it.

Of course, like any guy I was pleased that Marge thought I had a big one, even though she was an old lady. An old lady who didn't seem to have any trouble putting three or four inches in her mouth.

Like I said, there was a lot of licking, kissing and playing. Now, Marge got down to the serious business of sucking. "Hmmmmmmm, hmmmmmm, hmmmmmmmmm."

After all she'd been doing, it wasn't too long before, "Marge, if you don't stop, you're going to get a mouthful."

To my surprise, she bobbed up and down faster. "Hmmmmmm, hmmmmmmmm, hmmmmmmm."

"Awwwww, awwww, awwwwww," I grunted and held her head down as I came.

I haven't masturbated since I was a teenager, and it had been a while since I'd gotten laid. Marge was a trouper; she swallowed it all. Even for me, it seemed like a lot.

Marge kept it in her mouth, savoring my cum. When she finally took it out, "Tom, that's the best sexual experience I've had in ages. You have the most delicious cock. Any time you want to give this old gal a thrill, all you have to do is ask."

A half hour later, I was on my way home. Marge and I had a date for next Friday. A date to play golf.

TO BE CONTINUED

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