Old Handymen Have Moments 23

Saturday, part one.

As much as I'd love greeting Ms Lillian Martin in my normal attire when home alone, there was something different about this woman. Her previous innuendo concerning my 'abilities' aside, this seemed to be a formal type of woman. Whether she might turn out to be just another old slut remains to be shown.

Had no interest in dressing formally but some clean pants and shirt was on order. Lillian is punctual, arriving at 10:30am, driving a clean, well kept Camry, I watched her exit her car, walk slowly to my door with the confidence of someone comfortable in their skin.

She was wearing a nice, expensively understated knee length skirt, a tan button up blouse, maybe a size smaller than necessary to offset the size of her bust. Not in a slutty way, it just drew your gaze to her bustline in a subtle way. She wasn't thick waisted but no skinny old woman either, just enough hips showing to not be viewed as a dumpy old woman. White hair, almost glowing, in some type of short style, framing her face. Age lines at the corners of her eyes, across her forehead, small creases at the sides of her lips. Lips are medium full, no filler plumping them up, covered in a soft red lipstick.

The other thing...., she exits her car with an unlit cigarette held at the end of her left index and forefinger. Almost an extension of, or an addition to the fashion statement of the small bag held in her right hand.

She reached my door. I started to wait for her knock, my anticipation got the better of me, opening it before she could knock. I couldn't speak, the closeup view of this woman was much more striking framed in my doorway, morning sun causing her white hair to practically glow.

"Will you be inviting me into your home, or simply stare at me?"

"Oh, please come in, sorry, I didn't mean to stare. The sunlight behind you caused a striking effect. I was caught up in how you looked!"

"Hmmm, my friends were accurate in their opinion of you."

I asked what the opinions were, she was watching my face. Maybe to see my reaction. "I was told you could be blunt or honest but not cruel. Ellen thinks there is no guile in you, what leaves your mouth is exactly how you think."

"You seem to be acquainted with way to many people I know." was my reply, weak as that was.

"Oh, Mr Ruston, you sell yourself short, more than one person has a favorable opinion of your abilities."

"Please call me Dave, Mr Ruston is way to formal for my sensibilities." I needed to see where this woman was going with all this hinting around.

"Alright then, Dave it is, only if I'm Lill to you, Lillian is how my mother referred to me, I didn't like it then, I don't care for that pronunciation even now."

"Ok, since we are on familiar terms, what do you want from me. It's certainly not any electrical service, what services do you really want?"

"Ellen was correct, you are direct and to the point. I'm far too old for silly games all these young people play. For some reason, my niece views me as some dried up old woman needing 24 hour nursing care."

I started to tell her she looked a long way from any of that but Lill kept talking, her unlit cigarette nervously twitching between her fingers.

"Would you care for me to lite your cigarette?" she smiled and nodded a silent yes, Lill removed her lighter from her clutch, placed it in my hand, I pushed the lever down, holding the flame to the cigarette between her fingers sitting lightly between her red lips. An old fashioned flint style lighter, unusual but appropriate for this woman.

Everything this woman does is measured, thought out, she doesn't smoke out of addiction or need, she smokes as more of a statement of fact, maybe part of her fashion. Hard to really know.

She drew a shallow breath, you can barely hear the tobacco burn, smoke is exhaling softly from her nose, curling slowly up her face. She watches my face, any reaction seems to be noted. I already know what she sees, my nose flares just a bit, eyes probably open a little wider, I can almost hear a slight gasp of my lungs. I've been told too many times, from other women that light a cigarette in front of me how pronounced some of my facial reactions can be, Lill is probably getting some very defined visuals.

Holding her cigarette lightly between her fingers she does something I don't believe I've seen before, she moves the white cylinder diagonally across and just below her nose, a brief smell or inhalation of its smoke in her nose. I'll have to ask about that at some point, but not at the moment.

"So...., Lill, what do you want from me, other than driving me a little nuts smoking in front of me. But you already knew how that particular sight might affect me, or were you guessing?"

"I was told not to underestimate you, Ellen was correct. So here's my truth. Before moving in with my niece, I had a friend or two, we enjoyed each other's company a great deal, since moving here, well...., I no longer have any close friends. I miss that companionship."

Why she feels the need for all this innuendo is beyond me, guess I'm to set in my ways. "Lill, .... I can be dense at times, so do you just want a man or something else?"

"I apologize, my old manners can make me drag things out. I'm not looking for a thirty something to wear me out. I simply miss a man, the warmth of his body, the feel of him resting in me, moving in me. I need the feeling of being desired by a man, not as just a quick fuck."

"This is what I would like from you..... if you're interested. I'm eighty two, definitely not a spring chicken, I have all the defects of my age and life."

"Are you sure you wouldn't like someone a little younger than me?" she cut me off before I can finish my thought.

"Mr Ruston, I was thirty-eight when I married my first husband. He was ten years my junior, we were married for ten years, had two daughters. His sexual purpose as he saw it, was to spend at least thirty minutes pounding me into a mattress. Don't misunderstand, at the time I did enjoy his style and efforts, but he made no effort to change and at forty-eight a good pounding was nice occasionally, just not all the time.

I suppose he was expressing his physical dominance as the man wasn't particularly endowed or creative.

Didn't matter, he was working out his frustrations with the sixteen year old daughter of his office manager. At least until her father caught them in her bed. Now I suppose he's letting buba ease his frustrations. He got ten years confinement in a state hotel, I would suppose he's been out for many years now. Don't really care, I parted company with him after his arrest, our daughters know his whereabouts but have little other contact."

"My second husband I married for security as well as calmness. George was decently wealthy but tended to favor a more masculine bit of company, that's where I developed a taste in older gentlemen."

"Things all worked well, even after his death, until it slowly became apparent that I had become the older part of any couple."

"My problem, finding a somewhat younger man who doesn't feel the need for sex like some idiot rock star. Vigorous is nice, pounding the rock became....., well, uncomfortable."

"A good imagination is also a plus, so the recommendations from Bettye and, oh...., Ellen Canton, I think, made me believe you might be interested in an older woman. So here we are....., are you."

"My daughter called you on my insistence, otherwise some other firm would probably have done the job that has led me to this point. I hope it wasn't in vain."

So here we are, listening to this interesting woman give me a cliff notes version of her life. I suppose to see if I was really interested in her. Lill hadn't seen I was practically hooked from our first meeting.

Her cigarette has finally burned to the end, other than her initial draw of it, it's been a fashionable accessory for her hand. The ash column flicked in an ashtray before growing so long it fell to my floor. Stubbing the butt out, Lill removed another from her pack, places it loosely at the middle of her lips, leaned forward, looking me in my eyes and waited.

The slight sound of igniting tobacco, the red glow of it, her small inhale, white curling from her nose, the way she looks at me. I haven't felt this particular feeling in my crotch since all the way back to my mother, her bridge club and Elaine Jackson. Not even Judith Fortner affected me this way.

Lill wasn't two feet from my face, smoke slowly drifting up her face, blending into her white hair, disappearing in her soft curls. My dick was a stiff as a man thirty years younger.

Her expression didn't change, but she knew, Lill kicked her heels off, stood, but never moved. We are barely a foot apart, if she leans forward I'll know if her breasts are natural or not. Her hand drops to her side, cigarette held lightly, her only words, "Remove my clothing....., slowly."

I don't remember ever undressing a woman in quite this way. First her jacket, left arm, transfer the cigarette to her right arm. Didn't place in her lips, the easy way, a deliberate act, slow pace. Folding the jacket was about to step away, "No, just drape it over the chair and continue."

I'm doing this almost by feel, running my hands down her arms, reaching behind for the skirts buttons. Surprised there was no zipper, squatting down, my face is pressing her stomach at her waist, her breasts resting on top of my head. Her skirt drops, a hand rests on my shoulder, her foot lifts, I move the material, she repeats her steps, again I fold and drape it with her jacket, the smell of her sex, familiar and different, distinct to her body, hits me in the gut. My cock jumped, a gasp as I draw her smell inside.

Started to remove her panties, not grannies but not a thong, I want them off, my thumbs scrape at the banding. "No, not yet, remove my blouse."

It is an effort not to rip the damn piece of cloth from her, but I open it one button at a time, same motion. Slip it off one arm and shoulder, her burning cigarette transferred from hand to hand, slowing the process, again the fold then hanging it on the chair.

She just stands there, watching me, a slowly burning cigarette in her hand, lifting to her lips for a moment, a brief cloud exhaling from her mouth. All her imperfections visible, some cellulite showing on her thighs, not pronounced, just there. For her size maybe just a bit of thickness in her waist, balanced on a nice butt, not tight, not too saggy and big, still some, visible waist there, her breasts, medium to large, maybe 32 or 34 D's, definitely a substantial brassiere holding those puppies up. Overall, she's 82, could pass physically for 70 maybe.

A feature for me, her crotch, not smooth shaven..., not really trimmed in anyway, white pubic hair, poking from the sides of her panties, what appears to be a thick cushion of hair hiding behind her panties. But the smell of her, not an old woman odor, but not the smell of someone trying for the smell of a young woman.

I want to bury my face in her cunt!

I'm standing like a 'doofus' teenager waiting for the girl to tell him 'yes'.

"Undress for me, I want to see you." are her only words. "Slowly!"

I wasn't nearly as neat with my removal or folding, the first thing she noticed, I wasn't wearing socks. My dick is stiff, tenting and lifting the leg of my briefs, but she comments on my lack of socks.

Lill is constantly looking me up and down, my cock is dripping on my floor when she finally asks to see my bedroom. Thank goodness I changed my bedding this morning.

Her cigarette in her right hand, she holds out her left arm for me to guide her. Two almost naked, old people walking toward a bedroom, like escorting a date to a restaurant table, I was struck by the slight absurdity of our appearance. My cock dripping, a small wet spot showing in the gusset of her panties.

Ms Lillian Martin is proving to be a very unusual octogenarian.

End of part one