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When we dried off, Marge took me by the hand and led me to her bed. "Tom, I want to continue to be your mature cocksucker. Please allow me the pleasure."

It was a better blowjob than last week. Marge seemed more comfortable on her bed than on her knees on the porch like last week.

The next week was much of the same; this time the weather had turned very warm again. Marge did me by the pool. She had no trouble deep throating my cock. Marge was relentless in trying to make me cum. "Hmmmmmm, hmmmmmmm, hmmmmmmmm," Of course, later rather than sooner, she was successful.

The next week, I thought she did something weird, but I'm not complaining. She was driving the golf cart. "Tom, there's no one behind us for at least two holes. Let's do this." She drove into a heavily wooded area.

"I think you'll find this very exciting. I've been thinking about it for a while. Drop your pants."

Right there, sixty-year-old Marge, gave me a blowjob. I was leaning back against the golf cart, and she was kneeling on the grass. "Hmmmmm, hmmmmmm, hmmmmmmm, I like being you're mature cocksucker," she took it out of her mouth for just a moment. Then, "hmmmmmm, hmmmmmm, hmmmmmmm."

I had to admit, there was a certain excitement; the danger, the risk of being caught. Marge didn't do a lot of licking or kissing; just sucking. I think she liked the thrill and the danger, but wanted to finish before we actually did get caught.

I didn't play as well after that; and Marge played better. "Well, now I know the secret to beating you," she laughed.

"Yes, you do, who would you like to share that secret with? Your friend Kara? The others in your regular foursome? The bartender?"

"Oh no, Tom, you know I'd be so embarrassed, but I have to admit, it was very exciting."

Every week for the next month, we went back to Marge's home, took a shower together and she ended our evening together with a blowjob. I never spent the night, and there was just the blowjob.

That is until about a month after I got that blowjob on the golf course. Marge was out of the shower first and dried off. "I'll be waiting in bed," she smiled.

A few minutes later, I joined her in the bedroom. Marge was lying on top of the bed, legs spread. "Tom, have you ever considered eating me?"

No, actually I hadn't. Sure, I'd played with those titties every week when we took a shower together, but the reality was I'd never gone near her pussy. Never even really looked at it. To be fair when she was on her knees in the shower and I was standing over her, it was impossible to see. When we were in bed, Marge was between my legs and I was on my back, it was impossible to see.

I mean what guy my age wants to look at sixty-year-old pussy?

Now, I could. Like I said, her legs were spread wide. Marge's hair was grey with some black streaks in it. That turned out to be natural. He bush was the same: a mixture of black and grey. Of course, it was unlike any pussy I'd ever seen.

My ex- gave me a waxed, bare pussy for a wedding present. Until things went south, I loved it. The women I dated had some shade of brown pubic hair or like my ex- none at all.

Oh, and since the first time, I'd always loved the taste of pussy. My ex- on our honeymoon was good about showing me how she liked to be eaten, how she liked her clitoris played with, and how she didn't really mean it when she begged to get fucked when she was having an orgasm. "Tom, what I want is another orgasm."

I crawled up from the bottom of the bed, "Marge, you look delicious."

"You mean for an old. . . I mean for a mature woman," she laughed.

I thought some of the women I'd eaten, including me ex- had very tasty pussies. One blonde in particular, had me almost addicted to it. When we were together all I wanted to do was eat it.

Now, as I crawled up between Marge's legs, I wasn't kidding or patronizing when I said she looked delicious. Her dark purple labia minora extended outward and her clitoris, the same color, looked prominent.

I kissed her bush all over; from her pubic bone down near her asshole. No tongue. I kissed her thighs. "Tom, if you don't want to, I'll understand."

It was the way my ex- liked it. "When you do me like that, I'm dripping in anticipation" she'd tell me.

Was, Marge, dripping in anticipation? Did women her age drip at all?

Then I saw it, a watery, milky white substance dripping from those labia minora. Yes, she did drip. My tongue licked it up; then there was more, I licked it up; and there was more. Now, my tongue was busy, busy, busy. "Oh Tom, oh Tom, thank you, thank you, I'm so grateful."

I was sliding my tongue up and down her slit; in her hole, which by the way seemed larger than any that I was familiar with. Did that happen because she had kids or because of age?

Marge was slowly humping my face. "Oh Tom, oh Tom, your tongue is so good to me. You're so good to me."

My tongue started to play with that clitoris. Like her pussy hole, Marge's clitoris looked bigger than any I'd seen before. "Like that, Tom, oh like that."

In minutes, I was the observer and participant of the most amazing orgasm I'd ever seen. My face was getting fucked like never before. My cock had never been fucked like Marge was fucking my face. Loud, noisy, screeching.

I'd tell you that I had trouble keeping my tongue where it apparently was supposed to be, except Marge had her legs wrapped around my head and as a double whammy was holding my head in her hands. To be exact, she was pulling my hair.

I'm not complaining about any of this. In fact, I was pleased that I was responsible for whatever it was that was happening to Marge. I assumed orgasm, but I'd never seen one like that. "Keep eating me, Tom. Keep eating me just like that."

Her second orgasm was just as demonstrative as the first; maybe more.

Marge was breathing hard; for the time being I left her clitoris alone. My tongue went to that creamy substance which seemed to be coming out of that big hole. I licked it and licked it. It seemed sweeter than earlier; much sweeter. "Tom that was the most incredible thing ever. Thank you, I'm exhausted. I need some sleep."

I lay there for a while, catching my breath. I didn't get a blowjob, although she had sucked it in the shower, but it had been a great night.

A half hour later, I was on my way home. My cock was still hard.

Early the next morning, my phone rang. "Tom, it's Marge. I'm sorry about last night."

I was genuinely confused. "What's to be sorry about?"

"I didn't finish you. I started in the shower, and things got a little crazy in bed and thank you for that, but I was so exhausted or should I say you exhausted me. Either way, please, if you'd like to come over right now, I'd love your cock for breakfast."

"Marge, how can I say no? But it really isn't necessary. I had a fabulous night. You were so tasty. Besides, I'm due on the golf course at 9:30."

"I just wanted you to know, that I feel bad about leaving you hanging. Why don't you come over after golf? You can take a shower here or we can take a shower together and I can make it up to you. We can order out."

Of course, I agreed. I didn't play golf very well. My mind was elsewhere.

In the shower: "Tom, last night was something I haven't felt in ages, and I failed to thank you properly. " She apologized again.

Marge got on her knees. I watched the top of that grey head moving back and forth. It was the most amazing thing to watch my cock disappear completely. Marge was at her best.

"You were fantastic. I can't imagine anything better," I said as she got up and put her arms around my neck.

"I enjoyed it as much as you appeared to." She smiled.

"I just had the greatest idea, Why don't you get dried off and wait for me in bed?"

"Hmmmmmm," she rubbed against my still mostly hard cock. "Anything else?"

"You could be naked on the bed, with your legs spread and when I walk in, like last night, you could say, Tom, have you thought about eating me."

"You really want to do that again?"

"Why don't you let me show you? Unless, you don't want me to."

I never saw a woman move so fast. "Tom, don't take too long, and you better not change your mind."

Now, you're probably wondering what the hell was I doing. Me, a thirty-year-old with a sixty-year-old grandmother. First, I wasn't seeing anyone and my last few dates ended in disaster.

Second, in the dark, which we often were, it was impossible to tell a sixty-year-old blowjob from a twenty-year-old blowjob. In fact, Marge was a much better cocksucker than any college girl I'd been with. Much, much better.

Third, in the dark, who could tell a sixty-year-old pussy from a twenty-year-old one. Marge tasted as good or better than those college girls, and she wasn't self-conscious about how her pussy smelled or tasted.

There was no pretense about romance; it was just sex: blowjobs and pussy eating. All Marge wanted to do was suck and of course, at my age my cock was always ready.

We found that if I ate her first, her blowjobs were indescribable. "Wow, Tom, I went above and beyond, didn't I?"

"Oh yeah."

"And you made it all possible," she giggled. "When you're ready my pussy will be waiting."

Marge made it clear that she was too old for the rigors of fucking. "Tom, my pussy may not be able to handle your big cock, but as you can tell, my mouth is always ready for it."

"But your pussy can handle my tongue," I laughed.

"I can't believe you want to eat it, but since you seem to like it. . ." She pushed my head down.

There was no fucking, and although she didn't say anything, Marge made it clear that she understood that a guy might age, even though I was getting extraordinary blowjobs, needed to get laid.

"Tom, fucking is too painful for me, but if you'd like to fuck, I'm sure my friend Kara would be glad to accommodate you."

TO BE CONTINUED

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