Giving Doris a Lift

I'm Steve, a divorced fifty-year-old. The equity in the house, and our joint savings, were split fifty-fifty between me and the cheating bitch. Not that I'm bitter, mind you. I just won't refer to her in glowing terms; even though we had some very good years.

I bought a small two-bedroomed bungalow, and I was mortgage-free. I worked from home, doing user acceptance testing of software. The smaller bedroom became my office. It faced the street, so when I looked up I saw comings and goings, dog walkers--basically the world passing by.

I'd moved well away from my old home, so I had no friends locally. Close neighbours had called round to introduce themselves and welcome me to the neighbourhood. Some pushed a card through the letterbox rather than knocking, and a frail-looking old lady who lived over the road came across with a cake she'd baked for me.

That lady introduced herself as Doris, and she was not shy in telling me she'd be eighty the following month. I found it strange that women go most of their lives being either secretive about their age, or downright lying about it. Then, when they reached Doris' age, they become quite proud of it.

She looked like a stereotypical grandma with grey hair in a bun, and a kindly, wrinkled face. She always seemed to be in an apron with a skirt, blouse and cardigan underneath on cooler days. On warmer days it was an apron, summer dress, or a skirt, and light top or blouse.

Doris appeared to be slim, and she was about 5' 2" in height. I often caught sight of her when I was working. I noticed her when she was going for a walk, shopping, or just pottering in her front garden.

I decided to go to the local church to meet people in the neighbourhood. I'm in no way a religious person, but I could tolerate a boring sermon.

In fact, the Rev. Jefferies' sermons were seldom boring, and I quite liked the guy. I think he would have been disappointed if I'd told him I was using his church to widen my social circle, rather than accepting Christ as my saviour. So I didn't confess that to him.

The first time I attended, I sat at the back, right at the back. I didn't know how full it would get. I should have known--not very full at all. There were several empty pews in front of me, but I stayed in that back seat.

I noticed the vicar's eyes were fixed on me throughout most of the service. I think that was because I seemed incongruous, one person on the back row, segregated from the others in his flock.

Being at the back, I had a good all-round view of the congregation. There were a few young families. Not many teenagers. A fair few around my age, both couples, and other singles. And a shedload around Doris' age, predominently women, and I recognised that Doris was among them. The husbands of the old biddies were either dead, fishing, or playing golf? I had no idea, I'd probably find out.

When the service finished, I found myself surrounded, like a lump of bread on a duckpond.

The younger members were delighted to see the congregation numbers increasing, even if only by one. So did most of the ones my age. A couple of the females my age gave me the impression that they thought I was fresh meat.

I was not inclined to indulge them--given my recent experience. Trust issues I suppose, I had no desire for another relationship.

The ones Doris' age displayed a mix of interest, indifference, or suspicion. I don't mean each person displayed that mix, I mean each member of that age group displayed primarily one of those characteristics.

I didn't understand why a few looked suspicious of me. Did they think I was a predator?

Anyway, Doris was one of those that displayed interest. The church was about three miles away. The Sunday bus service in our rural area was infrequent, so I offered Doris a lift home. She accepted.

On the drive back, I thanked her for the cake she'd baked when I first moved in. (This first church attendance took place about a month after I moved in.) Doris could talk the hind legs off a donkey, and I could hardly get a word in edgeways, but I was happy to just listen.

She'd been married to Ralph, and she had been a widow for the last ten years. She missed him, and they'd had no children. Doris was the last surviving member of her family that she knew of. In any case, no family ever visited.

Her friends were those at the church, and she had a few good friends amongst them. Her passion was gardening, and to be fair that's where I most often caught sight of her.

I reversed onto my drive, got out of my car, and went to the passenger side to help her out. I don't think she was used to being in a car, because instead of swinging both legs out and then standing, she put one leg out first and then the other.

That caused her dress to ride up, and she displayed a good amount of thigh above the welt of her stocking. I was stood there with my hand held out to help her, so it wasn't that easy to turn away--well, that was my excuse for getting a good look. I didn't mind seeing her legs on show, and, so it seemed--neither did she.

Once I'd helped her up, she invited me over to her house for a cup of tea or coffee--to thank me for giving her a lift. I was pretty much coffee'd out from the church. After the service, there were hot drinks and biscuits available.

However, I didn't want to upset her by refusing, so I followed her across the road.

In the hallway, she took off her jacket. I then had a better idea of her body shape. Slim, smallish boobs, a slender hour-glass shape with a slightly poochy tum, and a rounded bum that looked good on her.

Doris told me to sit in her living room, and she'd bring my coffee through. I thought she must have felt a bit nervous in the car, and that's why she prattled on. Because in her own home, we were able to have a two-way conversation.

She asked about me, whether I had any children, had I been married. My answer to those questions was no to the first, and yes to the second. I told her about the divorce, and the circumstances that caused it.

She listened carefully, and then she shocked me by saying, 'Why did she do that? Were there problems in the bedroom between you two, and that's why she looked elsewhere?'

'Doris!?' I exclaimed, to let her know I thought she was well out of order.

It didn't faze her, and she doubled-down by saying, 'It's not always the reason, but it sometimes is. Did she feel unappreciated? What I mean is, did you give her compliments, or do you think you might have taken her for granted?'

I finished my coffee to get up and leave, what the fuck did Doris know about my marriage.

Doris saw I was about to leave, and said, 'Oh, Steve. Sit down. There's always two sides, and when you were telling me about the divorce, I could tell you were bitter. I used to be a relationship counsellor. If you were partially the reason for the breakup, it's not going to help you to move forward if you can't accept that.'

'I wasn't the problem, Doris.' I said quite firmly. I revised my opinion of Doris to that of an interfering old busy-body.

Doris gave a slight shrug, and said, 'With women there's a love bank. It might be the same with men, I don't know, but I know there is with women. Every act of love, a kind word, an appreciative gesture, a bunch of flowers for no reason, a gentle touch, a seemingly insignificant gift, or a softly spoken, "I love you."--they all get banked away, increasing the balance.'

I could tell there was some wisdom in what she said.

'A wild session in bed, an extravagant gift--they don't really add much at all--but neither do they reduce the balance.

'However, a harsh word, ingratitude, a failed promise, no hug when it's obvious she's feeling down, never being the first to say, "I love you.", not complimenting her when she's spent hours getting ready, not noticing her new hairstyle--they all chip away at the balance.'

I could feel myself starting to blush.

'If it's being topped up now and then, there's always something in that bank--you muddle along together because a balance is being maintained. It could be better, but many marriages encounter those ups and downs, and they succeed. If it isn't being topped up, then eventually there's nothing left.

'Then all it takes is someone to notice her, to bring her out of the shadows, to make her feel wanted, appreciated, and admired--then a simple goodnight to a colleague leaving work, turns into a "goodnight, I love you." when leaving his bed. For women, it's not primarily about the thrill of illicit sex, it's more about how a man makes them feel.'

I sighed.

'Did the two of you ever receive any counselling?'

'No. She suggested it, but I refused.'

'Ah,' was all Doris said.

'Perhaps we should have,' I admitted.

'It might have helped, but broken trust is hard to rebuild. It takes hard work from both.'

I now started to see Doris in a completely different light. I stood up to leave.

Doris got out of her chair and gave me a hug, quite a strong hug for someone so little. Then she held me at arms length and looked into my eyes. Her gaze lasted for a few seconds, and instead of looking into my eyes, it felt like she was looking into my soul.

She said, 'What's done is done, but try to lose the bitterness. Deep down I think you're a good man. I like you, Steve, I like you a lot.'

Doris then kissed me on my lips, a soft, tender kiss.

When the kiss broke, we again looked into each other's eyes, and then slowly our lips joined again--slightly parted lips--in a kiss that became sensual, and it lasted for a few seconds longer than the first kiss.

If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought I was kissing a woman my own age, not a woman old enough to be my mother. Then she seemed to snap out of the moment, and she pulled away:

'Oh, my!' I'm sorry, Steve, I don't know what came over me. What must you think?'

Her kiss had made me start to become erect. I simply said, 'I think you're a kind, wise lady. You've given me something to think about. I won't dwell on it, though, and start thinking If only. But I will lay some demons to rest.' Then I added, 'You can come with me in the car to the church next week, if you want?'

'Yes, please, Steve. That's very kind of you.'

And, as I stepped out of her house I also said, 'That kiss was something else by the way. Thank you.'

She smiled as she closed the door.

For the rest of that Sunday I thought about her words. I had depleted Jennifer's love bank. I had refused her suggestion of counselling. If I'd agreed, she would have called it off with Gordon--her work colleague.

He stepped into the void I'd left, and I could see that now. The only reason she didn't end it with him, was because I'd refused to try to save the marriage. That realisation about myself caused the resentment and bitterness I felt to fall away.

I also replayed that kiss. If anyone had told me that I would get turned on, and enjoy kissing a woman as old as Doris, I would have laughed in their face.

Lying in bed that night I replayed the kiss again. And I was hard. I didn't want to touch myself while fantasising about going further than kissing with old Doris--but that's what I did. Not just that night--every night.

The next Sunday, I knocked on Doris' door to let her know I was ready. She opened the door looking like all she needed to do was put a coat or jacket on, pick up her handbag, lock the door, and get in my car.

Instead, she invited me in. She took both of my hands in hers, looked me in the eyes and said, 'Last week as you were leaving, you said you enjoyed it when we kissed?'

'I did, yes, very much,' I admitted.

'So did I, kiss me again.'

We kissed. Softly and tenderly at first, then passionately--tongue-duellingly passionately. When the kiss broke I felt breathless, and wondered if we were going to go to church, or to her bedroom. She soon put me right.

'Will you sit with me in church, please?'

'Yes, of course,' I said.

On the drive there she had her hand on my thigh. 'You don't mind sitting with me, do you?' she asked.

'N... No,' I stammered.

When I parked the car, I was able to re-arrange my erection to make it less obvious. I opened the door to help Doris out. She again separated her legs getting out, so much so that I glimpsed her white cotton knickers, as well as her thighs.

We walked into the church together, and I followed her. There was enough room to sit on the same pew as her friends, the one she sat on the week before. Instead, she sat on the pew behind. There was no one on the pews behind us. Across the aisle there was no one on the same row as us or behind.

Two of her friends turned in their seats to talk to her, and I just listened. Then the service started.

While seated her thigh pressed against mine. When standing, her hand stroked the front of my trousers. The vicar couldn't see, and provided no parishioner turned their heads, they couldn't see either.

When the sermon started her thumb started rubbing my cock. I put my hand on her thigh. She parted her legs slightly. I moved my hand under her dress, and moved it up her thigh. Stocking gave way to warm, soft, bare thigh.

Then I felt my finger touch her knickers. I felt movement and glanced down. Doris had put her hand up her skirt to pull her knickers to one side. The sermon became a backgound drone, as I caressed her labia and found her clit.

I removed my hand, licked my fingers and went back to frigging her, right there in church. After a few minutes, I heard a slight gasp, and her hand clenched my thigh. I'd made her cum, and nobody noticed. I licked my finger.

When we knelt to pray I had my hand in her knickers from behind. I cupped her cheek and caressed her brown hole with my fingertip.

After the service, you would never have been able to tell by looking at her face what she had been up to. She looked the epitome of purity and propriety. That was such a turn-on; to know what I knew we'd been doing, when nobody else did.

I was glad it had been my left hand on Doris' privates. Otherwise, I would have felt guilty shaking the Rev. Jefferies' hand.

On the drive home, we'd pass some woods where people walked their dogs. When we got close, she asked me to pull into the car park. There were only two other cars there, and they were empty. The car owners were in the woods somewhere. We kissed again, and she unzipped me, feeling for my erect cock. I racked my seat back, unfastened my belt and trousers, and pulled them part way down, together with my shorts.

'Steve, that looks lovely,' she said, taking me in her hand.

Doris started to stroke me, expertly. She varied the grip and pace. After only a few minutes I had to lift my shirt, and then she aimed my cum onto my stomach. After she was satisfied she had milked me, she took some tissues from her handbag to clean me up.

'Was that nice?' she asked.

'Really nice.' I replied.

'I love being naughty outdoors. Haven't we been bad this morning?' she asked with a giggle. 'Did you enjoy feeling me up in church?'

'I did, yes.'

'Can I come over to your house this afternoon?' she asked.

'Er, yes, of course,' I answered, wondering what she had in mind. I mean, I knew the sort of thing she had in mind, but not exactly what she had in mind.

Doris knocked on my door about an hour after we arrived home. I'd showered, and I was wearing a dressing gown with nothing on underneath when I answered the door.

'It looks like somebody is ready,' she said with a smile.

I kissed her and she stroked me to hardness. Then I led her into my lounge, and settled her on the centre cushion of my sofa.

Leaning well back into the sofa, Doris' chin was on her chest. I put my forearms under her knees and lifted her bottom towards the edge of the seat cushion. She pressed her hands into the sofa to assist. When she was in the perfect position, I held her hands, and pulled her into a sitting position. 'Come on, Doris, let me take your top off.'

Doris held up her arms while I lifted the light, woollen top over her head. I didn't expect the skin on her body to be so unblemished and smooth.

Her small breasts dissappearing into her functional bra looked lovely and rounded. I reached behind her to unfasten her bra, and she bent forwad to assist. I slid her bra down her arms. Then she laid back into the sofa.

'Are you comfortable, Doris?'

'Yes, I am. I'm all right,' she replied, her expression seemed nervous, expectant.

When I saw her brown nipples, that were the diameter of pencils and at least half an inch long, I felt my erection throbbing. 'Your boobs are gorgeous,' I said.

Doris gave me a nervous smile, and said, 'My nipples are very sensitive, that's why they're sticking out like that. I was hoping you'd find my old body attractive, but I didn't think you would.'

'I love it, I'm very turned on.'

I smiled at her and felt her breasts. They were nowhere near as firm as they would have been when she was younger, but they made a nice, soft handful. It felt so erotic for me to be touching old Doris so intimately. Then I brushed her nipples with my thumbs. She sighed when I did that, and then closed her eyes.

I rolled them between my finger and thumb. 'Ahhh, Steve... Ooh, yes.'

Then I bent forward and sucked a nipple. The scent of whatever soap she used reminded me of my elderly relatives. I then kissed my way down to her pelvis, and she rested her hands on my head.

None of the skin I kissed had wrinkles, it was smooth, pale, and unblemished. I reached the waistband of her white cotton knickers. I kissed her on her mound, where I expected her clit to be hidden beneath.

'Aah! Oh, you lovely man.'

Doris was going to let me fuck her, I knew that. I started to pull down her knickers, and she lifted her hips to assist me. As I moved them down her legs I noticed the slight, feminine stains in the gusset. It wasn't a turn-off for me, quite the opposite, as my cock was still rock hard.

Her elderly pussy was less hairy than I expected, or perhaps it appeared less hairy because most of the hair on her mound was grey--with a few light brown ones. She wasn't shaven, but instead, perfectly natural and untrimmed.

I looked at Doris' pussy closely. It had a long clitoral sheath, which separated her outer labia. Where her sheath ended, her inner lips protruded. I licked the length of her cleft up to her clitoris that was just visible, peeking out from the sheath.

'Oh! My! Oh, my goodness, Steve. Ohh, that feels so nice.'

Using my fingertips, I spread her pussy. She was pink and glistening, and I could smell her arousal. I went to insert my finger inside her vagina. She was pink and glistening, but she wasn't lubricated.

I went to work on her with my lips and tongue, allowing my saliva to run into her slit. Her sighs and mewling grew more frequent, her hands grasped my head. I felt her hips starting to twitch. Then I tasted her tang, she was starting to get wet.

I went to insert a finger, and it slipped easily inside her old vagina. Doris was ready to be fucked.

My cock was also ready, I smeared saliva over it and looked at Doris' face. She looked even more nervous, but she made no move to stop me. In fact, she moved her legs a little further apart for me.

With my cock aligned for entry I again looked at her face. Doris was just looking down at where my groin met her pubis. I slowly pushed and felt resistance, but also her vagina stretching around me. This was going to work! I became very excited.

Doris put her head back and made a silent, 'Oh' with her lips.

'If you need me to stop Doris, just tell me.'

She gave a slight nod with her eyes closed and her lips forming the same 'Oh.'

After about three inches I stopped, and I partially withdrew, not that I felt resistance, I wanted to be sure I didn't hurt her. She was tighter than I expected, this was going to be good, and I hoped it would be for Doris.

I pushed slowly forward again, and didn't stop until I could go no further. When she knew she had all of me inside her--all seven inches of thick cock--she smiled and opened her eyes.

'Are you all right?' I asked.

'Oh, yes, Steve. You can shag me now, if you want, but go steady to begin with, as it's been so long.'

As I withdrew, I looked down at our union, her lips dragging on my shining shaft as if not wanting it to leave. We were lubricated with my pre-cum, and the juices she'd started to release. At the end of the stroke I plunged back inside her, not forcefully, but insistently.

'Ahhh!' she gasped, but she made no moves to stop me. I was fucking Doris, the frail old lady from across the road. Doris, who sat in the church pew next to me, and felt my erection over my trousers, who let me finger her in church, and in my car, and who wanked me off in my car. I was now fucking her, and I was going to cum in her old pussy.

I was not going to last long. It had been eighteen months since I'd been inside a woman. Because our union seemed so taboo, so outside the norm, I was turned on immensely.

Her fanny had plenty of friction. I wanted to hold back for her, so she could have release. I wanted her to cum first.

Doris' hands were gripping the cushion, and without stopping my thrusting, I lifted her right hand, and placed it where we were joined. 'Touch yourself,' I said. 'Rub yourself.'

She started to circle her clit with her fingertips, I continued to pump her.

'Oh, Jesus! Oh, Christ! Oh! God, Aaaah!' she cried, and her hips started jerking.

Seeing Doris have an orgasm caused me to cum, I grunted as I shot off inside her. I held myself deep inside her, filling her old pussy.

I remained inside her as we both came down.

Her chest, throat, and face were flushed. Thankfully she was smiling.

'Was that all right, Doris?' I asked, even though I knew what the answer might be.

'It was more than all right,' she answered. 'I never thought I would have one like that again.'

I assumed she meant orgasm and not cock.

'It was amazing for me too. I want us to do it again, can we?'

She then looked a bit worried, but I knew what she was thinking.

'Doris! Sorry, no! I don't mean right now, I mean another time. I don't want this to be a one-off.'

She smiled and said, 'You mean you want to shag me again?'

'Yes, very much.'

'You can shag me as often as you want, for as long as my old body can take it. Just be discreet.

'I don't care what the neighbout think, pop over the road whenever you want me. But I don't want anyone at the church to find out what we're up to. You're just someone who gives me a lift--and they don't need to know how much of a lift you give me.'