Don’t Be Fooled By Little Old Ladies

This adventure could be placed in General, Group, Lesbian, or Mature Sex, or even True Erotic Stories. I couldn’t decide which, so I threw a dart.

A few years ago, my wife and I were shopping at Costco, and she was off doing whatever women do in those places, while I checked out the few tools, sporting goods, etc. they usually have. I was just standing around at the head of an aisle looking at shower-heads and hand-held models when I noticed an attractive, no, make that striking, older woman approaching me. I could tell she was going to say something to me, so I turned to meet her. She was fifty-five to sixty, very well dressed and turned out. When she got to me, I thought, she couldn’t be that old, her skin is perfect, her breasts are nicely shaped and firm, her legs great, and there was the possibility of a great ass there.

She introduced herself as Betty and asked me what I thought of the shower equipment. I told her what I thought of the two handheld combo’s Costco had and she told me she would have to hire a plumber if she got one. I told her it looked pretty easy to do, and as we continued to talk about the shower heads and of other things, I realized she really was probably about sixty. What an incredible looking woman and I felt envious of older men who may have spent time with her in another day. In fact, I felt some lust for her as we talked . . . besides being so visually stunning, she was smart, friendly, witty, and had enormous sex appeal. Her hair was short like a dike might have, colored sort of a strawberry blonde—more a burnished copper-blond—with silver highlights and with green, dancing eyes. She was maybe, 5’-6” or 7”, and about 125 – 130 pounds; she was not just slim, but athletically slim—very lithe looking—with the tiniest waist. I thought her breasts were neither large, nor small, maybe she was a 34 BB or 34 C, but no difference anyway, because they were there and they went perfectly with her body.

We made small talk for about 15-minutes, but no matter what we talked about, she would always come back to the showerheads. “Do you think this has a hard spray”, she asked, “I just have to have a hard spray, but I have to have a very soft spray for my hair, also”. It finally dawned on me—she was almost screaming it at me—she was telling me that she was going to use it to masturbate. That explained her cute little sly smile that she shined on me when we were talking of the benefits of the massaging showerhead. When I caught on, I simply told her that I just knew that, that showerhead would be everything she wanted, because we had one and my wife just loved it. Then I told her I would install it for her if she wanted and she wouldn’t need a plumber. We agreed I would install it the next day, after I took my wife to the airport, just as my wife walked up on us. I introduced Betty to my wife and Betty showed her the device and told her how much I said she loved it. It didn’t take my wife two beats to pick up on everything, so she told Betty it was best she had ever had—best showerhead she ever had, she corrected herself—and they smiled knowingly at each other and my wife laughed a little. To be honest, Betty had been sexually arousing me since she approached me and then as I was watching the little by-play by her and my wife my woody stretched out even more.

After our goodbyes, my wife teased me a little as we talked about Betty. I told her she had really picked up on everything fast and she said she had just been watching us awhile and when Betty told her what I said about the massage shower, she said it was clear as could be. I told my wife I couldn’t decide on the woman’s age and that I had thought fifty-five to sixty when I first had met her, but now I thought she was maybe early fifties, but maybe sixty—I just wasn’t sure and I so busy trying to figure it out, I’d almost missed the implications of the showerhead business. My sweetheart answered, “well you did make a recovery . . .you’re making a service, or is that a servicing, call to her tomorrow, right?” There was no mistaking what she meant after she burst out laughing. The she told me that she thought Betty was a gorgeous woman, but well past sixty, then it was my turn to laugh. My wife insisted she was right and she told me that it wasn’t her looks that gave her away, but it was a generational difference in behavior, speech, and dress. Although that made sense to me, I was still thinking—hell, I had no idea now.
That night my wife gave me a nice long blowjob and then fucked my brain loose and told me she was getting me ready for Betty and had a hell of a laugh.

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