The AD

Prolog: I haven't considered requests, but a recent PM brought back deep memories of my life. The idea was plausible, in my case factual, and I'd started a story that somewhat fit the request. For that reason, I began anew, modifying what I'd already put to type. I'll leave it at that, other than to say the characters are fictional. ARW74

The AD

Wanted: Housekeeper.

Call: 555-4959 for Appointment

My ad had been in the paper for a week, and I was surprised at the lack of response as it was a time when people were desperate for work. I'd left the ad purposely vague and in doing so wondered if I might need to repost...

I was in the autumn of my life, as a popular song once said. My name is Bruce Hammond, widower or whatever a person is called after losing the swansong in their life. Debra and I never married, but spent an incredible twenty-year life together. I lost her to breast cancer and muddled through year after year working to retirement, never dawning on me I was losing so much more.

A few days before placing the ad, I stood looking into my bathroom mirror, preparing to shave.

"You're getting long in the tooth, Bruce," I said aloud to myself, just before drawing the first stroke against two-day old stubble.

I began talking again when I'd shaved half my face. This time, I raised my shaver, pointing it at my face in the mirror, accenting my talking points.

"And another thing, you need help around here, or you're gonna have to move into a small apartment. You aren't doing half what you should, and even then you're doing a poor job. What do ya mean, what are you supposed to do? Hire someone, get a maid. I know you're not wealthy, but you can afford it. What's that?... Well, of course having someone around to talk to would do you good. Being alone constantly isn't healthy."

Shaking my head, wondering if I was getting senile, I finished shaving. It was Thursday I was having a heart-to-heart talk with myself, and on the following Monday I placed the ad.

To be clear, I'd never bothered to pursue another woman after Deb. I just didn't have the heart. We'd had a sex life that would have shocked most people, but during her three-year struggle that part of our lives ended. Chemo, radiation and sex didn't go well together. Years passed and I never engaged in dating, getting back on the horse so to speak.

I'd always looked youthful, but at sixty-nine, I could see the signs imerging. What wasn't readily apparent was the sex drive in me, that remained high. Sadly, because I didn't re-engage, a great deal of sperm was sent down the shower drain. Eventually, I'd convinced myself this would be my life as no woman would, or could, ever replace Deb.

"Hello? Yes, yes you have the right number... it is, yes... well, I'm rarely gone so any day that works for you is fine... and you are? Sandra Brown... okay, tomorrow is fine... around one will work... it's 2410 Goodland Street... yes, until tomorrow... goodbye."

Having received my first inquiry, I smiled. Always a whiskey drinker, I poured a two-finger shot and dropped in an ice cube. As I sipped my drink, it dawned on me I hadn't interviewed anyone in years. Certainly not anyone for a housekeeping position. Later, I was at the mirror again.

"Okay, you can do this... all you need to do is ask basic questions... find out her back round... references, you know the drill," I spoke aloud to myself once again.

Going for a refill, I cussed at the state of my house. I knew I was trying to hire a housekeeper, but having someone walk into the mess I was looking at just screamed wrong. I forewent the drink and began straightening things up. I wasn't looking to impress, but on the same hand I didn't want to present myself as totally incapable either. Sandra walked into my life at exactly one pm the next day.

"Ms. Brown, you're right on time. I'm Bruce Hammond," I said in greeting, holding out my hand.

Being a woman, I expected her hand to be soft, but was surprised at the firm grip she offered as we shook.

"Mr. Hammond, thank you for meeting with me."

"Please come in and excuse the mess."

She entered and looked around, commenting that I had a nice home.

"Thank you, but I'm finding it's getting a little too much for me. Please have a seat."

She was dressed casually, but neat and crisp in appearance, wearing a white button-down blouse with the tails not tucked in and black leggings. Taking a seat in a living room armchair, she sat properly without slouching. Without my asking, she presented a resume of past employers and references.

"You're well ahead of me, Ms. Brown," I said, and smiled as I took her resume.

"Please, Sandra is fine... you'll notice, I'm Jamaican. I've worked in the United Sates for several years under work Visas"

"Ah, I was trying to place your accent. It's lovely."

Her look spoke of a blush, but I couldn't make it out on her dark skin. Her smile was instantaneous and infectious. Brilliant white teeth were a stark contrast to her brown skin.

"Would you care for a refreshment?"

"Water... if it's bottled, would be fine."

"I'll be with you in a minute, make yourself comfortable."

Returning, I handed her a bottle of Dasani.

For a few moments I quickly scanned her resume.

"Sandra, I'll be honest, it's been years since I was a position to interview people. Your history and references look impressive. I see you worked as a caretaker also?"

"Yes... I took care of a gentleman who'd been in an accident. And that work got me more referrals."

"Well, I'm not incapacitated yet, but it's nice to know you have experience," I responded, getting another bright wide smile, as I handed over her resume.

"The ad was vague... will you explain what my duties will be?"

"Of course, nothing out of the ordinary. General housekeeping, laundry... do you cook?"

"I do."

"Well, perhaps an occasional meal then, and grocery shopping. Would that be too much?" I asked.

"Mr. Hammond, you're the employer, whatever your needs are will be fine. Do you require any... personal assistance?" she commented.

"Personal? Oh, you mean as in caretaker assistance. No, it may be coming, but it's not here yet," I replied, getting a grin.

So far, Sandra seemed a caring person, and I told her as much.

"Thank you... I asked about personal assistance because looks can be deceiving, but you're a handsome man and seem quite virile. You aren't asking too much, so can I ask what the wage might be... oh, and the hours?"

I knew the questions were coming. I'm certain I must have looked uncomfortable. Sandra seemed to pick up on it.

"Or, perhaps you like to show me around first?"

I leaned forward resting my elbows on my knees, "I can afford twenty an hour. I know it's not much, but I'll pay in cash. I have no desire to deal with the government. The hours I have no idea about... perhaps, thirty-two a week?" I offered, looking uncertain.

Sandra smiled, "We can work it out. Would you care to show me around?"

"Of course, the house isn't all that large, but please follow me."

After a half hour, Sandra stopped me as we approached my room, the master.

"How long has it been, Mr. Hammond?"

"Excuse me?"

"I've done this professionally for many years and I can tell when a man is the only one taking care of a home, always like company was coming," she commented, lightly touching my arm.

My blush was unavoidable. "You noticed, huh? The simple answer - years."

Her hand went to my bicep, in a surprisingly intimate way, squeezing it.

"This makes no sense to me."

"It's a long story Sandra... shall we continue?"

I couldn't tell what was behind her look, as I'd long ago forgot how to read a woman. We went into my bedroom and she casually moved about, rubbing a finger over different surfaces, checking the closet, dressers and finally the bathroom.

I'd been watching her movements, but now in my bedroom they seemed more erotic. I knew women were prone to wearing leggings and I was growing more appreciative. Her leggings held tight to her toned legs and what I could see of her firm, round, buttocks. When she'd finished she came to me.

"Well, it will take some work, but nothing I can't handle. When would you like me to start?"

"Ah... well, I didn't know this would be so easy. Tomorrow?" I replied. "Do you have your own supplies?"

"I do, but that will be an extra charge. You might be better off just getting what I'll need."

"I'll meet you halfway... tell me what you think the supplies will cost and I'll give you cash before you leave," I replied.

"Mr. Hammond, you are the least demanding employer I've ever had."

"Bruce please, I'm not much on formalities at my age."

Nothing could have been more perfect. Sandra settled into her role the next day. In no time, she became like an old friend. She'd perform her work, but willingly entered conversations. Toward the end of the week, I found her in the laundry room. She was holding up my white underwear. (tidy whities)

"What?" I asked, embarrassed.

Sandra looked at me and shook her head. "A virile, handsome, man like yourself should wear more fitting underwear," she commented, tossing it into the washer.

I shook my head and walked off. Crazily, she got me to think, having an affect I hadn't foresaw. She'd used the virile word again. What was she seeing that I wasn't?

Sandra was a hands-on housekeeper. Somewhere in her past she'd been taught about elbow grease, and she was always willing to put that to task.

"Sandra, I have a floor mop," I told her, catching her on her hands and knees in the kitchen.

"And I can tell you been using it. If your floor is ever to be clean again, this is what it needs," she replied, without looking up at me.

I wasn't about to argue. Feeling a bit guilty, but excited at the same time, I watched as the back of her legging slid down slowly, as she worked. Before I walked away her lower back dimples and the start of her butt crack were plainly visible. I felt a natural stirring I hadn't in years.

"Your choice... thank you," I called out, dismissing the idea she was intentionally causing what I saw to happen.

It took her a little over a week to turn my modest home into what I thought was a five-star hotel. Impressed, I felt I had to say something, as her efforts seemed excessive.

"Sandra, do you have a minute?"

"Of course, what can I do for you?"

"Your work has been incredible, but maybe over the top. I'm not paying you for this high-end level of work."

"But... it's what I do."

I smiled, and for the first time I touched her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Sandra locked her beautiful brown eyes on mine, and I felt butterflies in my abdomen. A feeling I'd long forgotten.

"I feel guilty. You're doing way too much for what I'm paying you."

"Bruce, I'm doing nothing that I wouldn't always do," she replied. "I have only your bathroom to finish and then I will go."

Thinking I might be crossing a line, I pulled my hand away and smiled.

"Okay, and please take a few days off," I commented.

"I do have some things to catch up on," she replied, and walked off.

I'd never actually checked on her and for some reason I felt compelled. Walking into my bedroom, I found a pile of clothing. Shoes, socks, leggings, panties, shirt top, and a bra by the bathroom door.

I stopped short of the bathroom door, hearing the shower running.

"Sandra?"

"Yes Bruce?"

"Are you almost done?"

"Yes... yes... I'm... umm, almost... there... I mean done."

I felt a familiar tightening in my loins hearing her reply. As much as I wanted to look, I didn't and turned away. She was apparently nude and I considered perhaps she cleaned showers that way, but then again the excitement in her voice seemed telling.

Forty minutes later, Sandra found me outside on my porch. She looked refreshed and presented a wide smile. There was something else also. There were no telltale markings of a bra under her top, just the tented form of her nipples and the voluptuous shape of her breasts.

"Damn, where are my manners. Would you like a beer, Sandra?"

"That would be nice... I'm done for the day," she replied.

"Take a seat, I'll be right back."

Returning with an open beer, I handed her the bottle.

"I'm a whiskey drinker normally, but a beer just sounded good today," I commented.

Sandra sipped on her beer, looking over the neighborhood. We were silent for a few minutes, just relaxing, when she broke the silence.

"Aren't you going ask?" she questioned.

"Sorry... ask what?"

"About why my clothes were outside the bathroom," she responded.

"Ahh... I just figured that's how you cleaned showers."

I caught a twinkle in her brown eyes, as her lips curved into a smile.

"You are a nice man, Bruce. Anyone else would have walked in, but you didn't. Why?"

"To be honest, I thought about it. At my age... well, I just felt it best to give you your privacy."

Sandra reached out to touch my arm. It felt electric and warm, as her fingers gripped my forearm.

"You are also very sweet," she said, patting my arm.

"I know it's not polite, but can I ask your age?"

"I'll turn forty on the first of this next month - why?"

"August first huh... you don't look a day over twenty-nine," I remarked, making her laugh.

"Bruce! Are you flirting with me?!"

I felt the heat creeping across my cheeks, and shook my head.

"No, no that would be like chasin' a rainbow... pointless, but I do find you attractive," I said, holding out my bottle for a toast.

"You shouldn't put yourself down. You never know what a woman might be thinking," she said, after clinking her bottle with mine.

"Now who's flirting?"

Sandra's laugh was deep, almost sensual in a way and wrinkles formed in the corner of her flirtatious eyes.

"You are so easy to talk to Bruce."

"I'm sixty-nine, comes with age, I guess."

"You're lying... sixty-nine?! You spoke of a long story when I asked about you being alone. I'm all ears, if you'd care to share."

"We're about done with our beers, could I offer you a second?"

"Yes, but I'll do the honors," she said, jumping up.

She noticed my stare. It was impossible not to, as her breasts came to a wiggling halt directly in front of my face.

"Thirty-six Ds," she said, taking my empty bottle from my hand.

"Sandra, I'm so sorry!" I called out after her.

"Don't be... nothing to be sorry about. A woman likes to be noticed!" she yelled back.

I was still embarrassed when she returned.

"Sandra, I haven't been with a woman... well, in years as I said. My Debra passed away twelve years ago," I began, as she handed over a fresh beer.

"That's so sad."

"Looking at your... breasts, brought back memories and I must apologize," I said, finishing what I'd started.

"Don't be silly, you're a man. Nothing is more natural. Were hers like mine?"

I smiled and shook my head, "Quite a bit smaller actually... and how are we so easily talking about your breasts?"

"I have no idea, but I said you were easy to talk to. My ex had a fetish over black women, especially those with large boobs," she remarked, and laughed.

"So, you're divorced."

"Yes. I didn't fit the family mold, being Jamaican and black. His inheritance was worth more to him than me, and when it was being threatened... well, you get the picture."

"That's terrible, maybe I shouldn't say this, but he obviously didn't deserve someone like you," I replied.

Sandra grinned, "Oh, there were a lot of things he loved about me," she said, winking.

"I'm certain I know what you mean," I commented, feeling heat again rising on my cheeks.

"What about you and Debra, how long were you together?"

"Twenty years, we never married, but we threatened each other about it a few times."

"Wow, I can't imagine," she sighed.

"And you... are you currently with anyone?"

"No, I shied away after my divorce."

"Now that's truly sad," I commented.

"Not really, I just came to the point where I decided I didn't need a man in my life and certainly not one in my bed every night," she answered back. "I had toys to do what any man could do," she added, chuckling.

"I get your point, but what about... how do they say it... oh yes, a friend with benefits?"

Sandra locked eyes with me, as she smiled broadly.

"Listen to you! You mean like..." she began, pointing her finger back and forth between us.

I instantly felt like a little boy caught with his hand in cookie jar.

"What? No... no that would be crazy!"

"Oh, are you saying that because of your age, or that you don't get horny?" she asked, winking.

I felt like she was playing a game of cat-n-mouse and I swallowed hard.

"To be perfectly frank, I won't say I don't get horny, but I've been without for so long it's like being without hope and a prayer," I replied.

"Stop that... look, I gotta go. We can pick this up when I come back. Thank you for the beers and the candid discussion," she said, rising to leave.

Watching her walk to her car, I felt heavy in my chest and I sighed out.

"Nothing worse than a fool, except an old fool."

I waved her off and went inside...

Sandra returned four days later, with her flirtatious nature still intact. Wearing a light, spaghetti string top, she was obviously braless. Her leggings were white and seemed to change color depending on what she was doing. It was only later I figured out the material stretched, making it nearly see through.

I may have been old, but I wasn't dead. By mid-afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore and went into my bathroom. I was standing at the vanity sink masturbating when she walked in. She didn't react at all. After watching for a few moments, she simply came to me.

"I think it's kinda sad," she began, reaching to take over.

Shocked and stupefied, I allowed her and mumbled out, "What are you taking about?"

"You're doing this when I'm right here."

"Sandra, there's no way I would ask..."

"Why? You know I've been a caretaker. Personal attention was sometimes apart of the job."

"Yes... but this kind of attention?"

She leaned over, dropping a large dollop of spittle on my cockhead, and continued to stroke.

"I... I... Jesus that feels... God... so good."

"Perhaps my helping you will make you see you do have hope and a prayer."

"You mean... argh... God yes... I'm going... to cum!" I said, arching my back to push my pelvis against the vanity.

A large yellow-white, looping, stream of cum shot out, hitting the far side of the sink, followed by another and another. Sandra continued to stroke me until I was totally spent.

"Would you like help cleaning up?" she asked, and smiled.

"No... no, I can take it from here," I managed to get out.

"You are a very healthy man, Bruce," she sighed, and turned to leave.

Astonished she would be so bold, I stupidly said, "Thank you, you're amazing."

Stopping, she looked back and smiled, "Not yet," she replied, and left me to wonder the meaning of her words.

Sandra went through the rest of her day as if nothing had happened between us. To me, it was maddening. Finally, I walked into the laundry room.

"Are we going to talk about this?" I questioned, staring at her exposed breasts inside her top, as she pulled clothes from the dryer.

"Talk about what?"

"You... me and what happened in my bathroom," I explained, certain she knew perfectly well what I was talking about.

"Well, I'd prefer it if you'd masturbate in the shower or..."

"Or what?"

"We can discuss that later. Are you bothered by my helping?"

"Yes - No, I mean... Jesus I don't know what I mean," I responded, obviously frustrated.

"Remember our talk before I took a few days off?"

I nodded.

"Let's just say we're friends and you benefitted," she commented, pulling a spaghetti strap back into place.

"That's it? We go from a candid talk to you masturbating me?"

Sandra grinned and nodded.

"Yeah, something like that. Don't be embarrassed, but I gotta say you do have a nice penis."

"How can you be so blasé?"

"Bruce, didn't I do something you've been thinking about? Tell me I'm wrong," she replied, picking up the laundry basket.

"I... I..."

"I thought so, I'll be in your bedroom folding and putting clothes away," she said, in a buttery voice as she moved passed me.

Her inuendo was obvious. Being her friend, she was looking for a benefit. After arguing with myself, I went to my room. Sandra sat naked on my bed, doing as she said, folding clothes.

Seeing me she smiled, laid back and spread her legs. As I approached, she rubbed her labia, opening them for me, exposing her pink clit.

"I know you know what to do," she cooed out.

Getting on my knees, I licked my lips, looking at the first pussy I'd seen in years. Reaching up, I grasped her tits, as I lowered my head between her thighs.

"Oh yeah, you definitely know what you're doing... umm, yes that's it... suck my clit."

I felt certain she'd been thinking about this for some time. She was wet before I even sucked in her clit, sexually excited.

"Oh God... it's been... mmm, so long... yeah, yeah, yeah... don't stop... yes, yes, yeah... faster... make me... CUM!"

I kept her clit locked with my lips, as she writhed on the bed. Her legs opening and closing rapidly as her orgasm peaked.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my... stop, stop, Bruce!"

Not being spry anymore, it took a moment for me pull away from her vagina and get back up on my feet. With eyes closed, Sandra's breathing slowly calmed, as she cupped her pussy.

"Umm, I like this benefits thing."

"I'm just worried I might lose you," I replied.

"Oh Bruce, with what you just did to my pussy you don't have to worry."

Sandra had woken something inside me I thought I'd lost forever. At my age, I had a younger woman wanting a sexual relationship. I wasn't about to kid myself about where any of this was going, but the thought of being inside her started to consume me.

On Friday, we were setting on the porch enjoying a beer again, as the fall had been kind with warm weather. After a couple of weeks, I'd learned Sandra was just as eager for benefit sex as I was, but she rarely verbally admitted it. She like to play coy.

"So, why me?" I asked.

She knew exactly what I was asking. "I know you'll only want one thing from me - sex," she responded.

"That's it?"

"Yes, does there need to be more?"

"I guess not," I answered, and leaned back thinking about her answer.

"So, I have a question for you... what's the craziest sex thing you've done?"

I wasn't sure why it was so easy answering her and I grinned, "Well, it involved peeing," I said.

"Peeing - really?"

"Yeah, Deb liked yellow rain and one day she squatted over my face."

"Oh my God! She wanted to pee in your mouth?! Did you let her... did you swallow?!"

"Crazily I did and that set off a whole string of peeing episodes."

"That's so weird. My ex loved to watch me pee!"

"Just watch?"

"Ya, but he was obsessive about it. If we were in a hotel he wanted me to sit on the luggage rack, while he looked up watching me. Anything else for you?"

"Ya, but it goes back many years. Have you ever engaged in anal sex?"

Sandra reached out grabbing my arm, " No, but I've thought about it! Have you?"

I nodded.

"God, I don't know if I could take your dick up there," she gasped out.

I thought her comment was funny and laughed.

"What?" she asked.

"It's nice to know you thought about it, but considering we're just masturbating each other, it's a bit premature."

"You are very talented, by the way," she commented.

It wasn't until her third week that we went to the next level...

Turning her, she bent over with hands on the shower wall, crying out when I pushed into her vagina.

"Lordy easy... it's been a long time since I've had a man in there!"

In no time the familiar flop, flop, flop sound echoed in the shower. Sandra's tits were rotating in opposite directions and her moaning grew louder, as I thrust against her ass burying my cock balls deep.

"I... I was... wrong... my pussy needed... you..." she groaned out.

"Uh... uh... uh... uh... you're so... uh... uh... tight." I answered back.

"I... think... you are... just big... yeah... yeah... ah yes... you are going... to make me cum," she moaned, reaching for her clit.

My legs would be incredibly weak by the time I came. Having vigorous sex at near seventy isn't all that easy. Sandra cried out her orgasm well before me, and urged me to keep going. Maybe it was age, but I enjoyed lasting longer.

"My God, I've never cum that much in my life," I told her, easing my cock out.

Readying the luffa with body wash, she moved behind me, "That's what a black woman's pussy can do for you," she said, laughing and set about washing me. "You're gonna enjoy what's coming."

"Sandra, what did you mean your pussy needed me?"

"I tried telling myself I didn't want you inside me, but I was lying. When I felt you sliding in I almost came immediately," she replied, reaching between my legs to soap and wash my penis and ball sack.

"That's odd, because I was having doubts about performing."

"Well, you're one hell of an actor, I'll say that and I love your prop."

The word prop came out as she tried stroking my flaccid cock.

Recognizing I wasn't a young man, Sandra was content with my manual or oral sex acts. She wouldn't admit to being horny, but she made it apparent when she needed or wanted to be pleased. I happily gave her what she wanted, often without asking for a return. It took me time to replenish myself, so reserving her pussy for my cock on special occasions, most notably Fridays, worked out well.

On her birthday, I surprised her with several articles of sexy lingerie.

"Oh my God... Bruce, you shouldn't have! How did you know?"

"You told me."

"No, not about my birthday, but the red color. It' my favorite!" she explained, holding up a panty and bra set. "Can I try them on?"

"I was hoping you would."

She scampered off into the bathroom and moments later I heard her cry out, "Bruce, you dirty ole man!"

Laughing, I knew she'd discovered the panty was crotchless.

Coming out, she acted like a model on a runway, stopping at the door jamb to place a hand high over her head, and lift a leg, bent at the knee. I clapped as she moved towards me, strutting foot over foot. Her large areolas and nipples were visible under the sheer bra material. Stopping in front of me, she bent over presenting her luscious camel toe.

"Damn, you're sexy," I sighed out.

"Yeah, would you like a lap dance?"

She didn't wait for an answer, taking a step back between my legs and setting on my crotch. Putting her hands on my knees, she began rocking back and forth. I came alive, growing in her ass crack. When I was fully erect, she stood up.

"Take it out."

Seconds later, she gripped my cock and guided it into her pussy.

"This is your reward for being such a dirty ole man," she cooed out.

It wasn't Friday, but I accepted it on behalf of my throbbing dick.

We maintained our friends with benefits relationship. On a rare - very rare, occasion she'd spend the night. Those were particularly rewarding times for a man my age to wake snuggled against a sexy black woman. The first occasion was the night of her birthday...

Standing in my bathroom getting ready, she caught my reflection in the mirror looking at her.

"God, I can't believe I'm doing this," she commented.

"If you'd rather not, it's okay," I replied, watching her lotion her breasts.

Her smile appeared and she came to the door, " Would you like to do this?" she asked, holding up the lotion bottle.

"I'd love to."

With breasts swaying and butt cheeks rolling, she moved to the bed.

"Don't get used to this," she commented, handing over the bottle.

"It's your birthday, a special occasion. Would you like a massage?"

"I'd like that, but..."

"But what?"

"Are you going to make me cum before we go to sleep?"

"I was hoping to, yes."

"With your lips?"

"Of course, after your lap dance it's either that or my fingers," I told her, getting a laugh.

"Okay, just don't rub my pussy with lotion then," she said, getting on the bed.

Still on her hands and knees, I commented that the next time she wanted me inside her I wanted just like she was. Sandra laughed.

"You want to look at my butt while you're fucking me, don't you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes. You do have an amazing ass."

Sandra turned her head, looking back at me.

"Is that all... you just want to look?" she questioned.

"Is it that obvious?"

"I think you'd like to relive a past experience, Bruce. I said I'd never done it, but I've thought about it... I might let you have your way, or at least try," she replied, easing down on her belly.

Before I started in on her massage, I bent and kissed both of her firm ass cheeks.

"Umm, that's a nice start... would you like to eat my pussy first?" she asked, lifting her pelvis.

Spreading her ass cheeks, I tongued her anus, getting a loud gasp.

"Bruce!"

"Just giving you something to think about... roll over, let's make you happy."

Sandra's massage came after her orgasm. Satisfied, she laid with her head on my chest.

"I think you're dangerous," she whispered out.

"Why would you say that?"

"You're spoiling me and I'm afraid I won't be able to resist."

I had just enough arm length to reach her butt, and slid my fingers into here crack, gripping a cheek.

"You wanted benefits," I replied.

"I did... I do, but if I give you everything I'll never get away," she sighed out.

"You know you can leave any time you want, that includes my bed - right?"

"I know... it's just that with every orgasm you give me I want more."

Not sure what to say, I remained quiet. It wasn't long before I felt her slow rhythmic breathing. She had drifted off and I closed my eyes joining her. I wasn't prone to sleeping in, but her birthday had been an exciting and draining day for me. I woke finding myself alone, wondering if Sandra's fear had gotten the best of her.

After weeks of not hearing from her, I feared the worst, but smiled at having shared something special her in the autumn of my years. I knew Sandra would always have a special place in my heart. On the thirtieth of September, I sat quietly enjoying a whiskey on the rocks, listening to vintage jazz celebrating my seventieth birthday. Hearing knock on my door I got up to see who was there - it was Sandra.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked, in a meek voice.

"No... I told you could walk away anytime," I replied, opening the door for her.

Stepping in she shivered. The weather had turned and winter was close.

"I needed time to think."

"I see, about what?"

"You... me, and what I really wanted," she answered.

"What's with the luggage case? Are you leaving town?" I questioned her, as she set it down.

"No Bruce... I figured I'd need a few things if I was going to be spending more nights with you," she replied, opening her long winter coat.

Fully nude, with wonderfully erect nipples, she opened her arms for an embrace.

"Today's my birthday," I said, sliding my arms around her.

"Guess I'm right time again, would you like to celebrate?"

Kissing her, I closed the front door without looking...