Making Love To The Elderly

Kiselev Andrey Valerevich / Shutterstock.com
Kiselev Andrey Valerevich / Shutterstock.com

I was a young orderly at the nursing home, fresh out of college and with a burning desire to help those who couldn’t wipe themselves. She was ancient and beautiful, like a Seychelles giant tortoise or an ornate Ming Dynasty vase. Our eyes first met as I came to give her a sponge bath; well, my eyes met hers, at least. I don’t know how well she could see, as both of her eyes were partially cloudy, but much like the skies on even the grayest of days, there was a little sunshine behind them.

“Oh, whatever happened to that lovely colored boy? He’s been ever so polite,” she inquired while sucking on a cough drop.

“Marvin’s been promoted to ward manager. They assigned me to bathe you from now on…is that all right?”

“Of course it is, dearie. Let me just slip out of my nightgown, and you can go right ahead.”

What I saw next was more enchanting than the time a wizard touched my dick at magic camp. She slowly rose from her hemorrhoid cushion and with a dignified, trembling grace, she unbuttoned her nightie before letting it fall to the floor. She had her back to me, and her hunch revealed a constellation of liver spots and blisters that left me pitching a full-on rager in my scrubs. I just prayed that there wouldn’t be a wet spot at the tip lest she notice and scold me.

“Well, sonny, don’t just stand there,” she teased. “Lather me up!”

I sidestepped toward her, sponge in hand and a washbasin full of soapy water in the crook of my arm. Soaking it thoroughly, I took a moment to inhale her savory musk before dragging it across her turkey neck, being careful to get under the numerous folds of skin before washing her chest, shoulders, and low-hanging breasts, which resembled two hammocks full of tapioca pudding.

“Now,” my voice was quivering, “are you OK with me washing your…private area? Or would you rather do that yourself?”

“Not with my arthritis. No, you feel free to get in there. Don’t be embarassed, dearie. Everybody’s got one.”

I was far too aroused to correct her. Working with the delicate precision of a watchmaker, I slowly cleansed that beautiful, darkened fruit, starting with her clitoral hood and working my way along the browned, flopping lips. She was dry as a bone despite the water, but she moaned in a ghostly cadence as I touched her.

“You’re….you’re, enjoying this, aren’t you?” she panted.

I abruptly stopped and she placed a withered hand against my own as if to encourage me.

“That’s all right. I’m enjoying it, too.”

Before long I had locked the door and mounted her. At the moment prior to insertion I blurted out something about not having a condom, and the two of us laughed like old friends as I climbed inside of her like a monkey ascending a parched jungle canopy. With each thrust of my hips, her milky eyes would water, and her toothless mouth wore a wide, knowing smile. As I vigorously fired a load into her ancient love tunnel, her body took on a stillness and her breathing came to a halt. She was still smiling as I pulled out, and the expression remained as my superiors came to investigate.

“Dude, did you fucking fuck this crazy old bitch?” Marvin asked me with a look of both amazement and disgust across his face.

“Yes I did, and I’m not ashamed of it. She came on to me. Nothing I did here was illegal.”

“Well, it should be—you’re fired. Get the hell out of here. I can’t believe you, man. You make me sick. Can we hurry up and get the body boys in here? She smells even worse than before.”

I’d lost the job but gained a precious memory, one that I shall carry with me until I’m Mrs. Farthington’s age, when the mind typically starts to go. I now work as an advocate for GAMS (Gerontophilia Advocates Managing Stigma), an organization that strives to educate people about the fact that it’s OK to skip a generation where sexual love is concerned.

We’re basically the opposite of NAMBLA, and you can visit our website as soon as we find somebody willing to advertise with us. Remember, you’re only as old as the person you feel, so make a change and fuck the elderly today. It might make you physically retch to even contemplate, but it would mean the world to them. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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