My Affair With Hope - sex story

My Affair With Hope

I didn’t join the community center to troll for pussy, after all, I was 64 and most of the women there were in their 80s and 90s. No, I joined for the art classes, as I always wanted to know how to paint. It was just good fortune that Hope Cur…. was in the class as well.

Hope was, at that time, 88 and, in her own way, still very attractive. Hope was also a very good artist already. She just didn’t have the encouragement by herself at her apartment in the Sunrise assisted care home. We became fast friends as we grew up in the same area in the Midwest.

I learned that Hope could no longer drive and depended on a bus to get to class. I volunteered to pick her up and take her back home after class. One morning when I went to pick her up, she was still getting dressed. She was having trouble buttoning her blouse and her bra was slightly askew. She asked me to help her and I said that we had to fix her bra first. I unhooked it and pulled it slightly away from her body and had a good view of Hope’s tits. She kind of laughed a little and said; “Honey, it’s not nice to look at mommy’s boobies”. I didn’t know why then, but I got an immediate hard on. I finished dressing Hope and off we went. From that moment on, I looked at Hope as a potential sex partner, I just didn’t know how to pull it off.

Some weeks after that I noticed that when we talked about how we grew up (in very similar circumstances), Hope would hesitate when she would say black man or black woman. I told Hope that, when we were alone together that was a safe zone, and she could use any kind of word or language she wanted to. I than asked her directly to say what they called black people back in her day. She hemmed and hawed a bit, then finally said quietly; “We called them…niggers.” It is a word that she was forbidden to say most of her adult life, and when she said it I could hear in her voice that it was something that she needed to say…to be politically incorrect. I thought I saw my opening.

“Hope”, I said, “It’s alright to use the word when you’re with me. I know you don’t mean any harm by using it, but it is a part of your past and if you’re comfortable using that, or any other word, you can when we’re together.”

It was the perfect opening for Hope. She talked about the niggers where she grew up and about nigger whores. I had unleashed her forbidden language. She told me that it felt good to use the word, even though she didn’t hold any grudges toward niggers. She said that, since she could say whatever she wanted around me, that I could do the same. Nothing was out of bounds. I could see she was really enjoying this and the anticipation of what might come.

Her problem with dressing became more frequent and before long she was having me redo her bra whenever I came over (twice a week). I took the first opportunity to tell her; “Momma’s got nice tits.” I was behind her, not yet ready to close the bra, Hope looked over her shoulder as I cupped her tits in my hand and purred; “Do you really think so? Do you really like holding momma’s tits?” I kissed her cheek and whispered; “I love your tits, mom.” Now she knew what my taboo was. I rolled her nipples gently between my fingers and added; “I’ve always loved your tits, mommy.”

This was the limit of what went on between us for about six months. I’d play with her tits and call her mommy and she’d tell me about the niggers in her life (including a couple of black ladies we both knew and liked).

Then, it became more difficult for Hope to get up the energy to go to the community center to paint, so I suggested that she at least sketch in pencil in her apartment. She said she would, but it had been too long since she did people and needed a model. Without thinking, I lied to Hope and told her that I had modeled for two art classes after college, to earn extra money. I told her I was paid twenty dollars a session and that almost all of the students were female, including one as old as 75 and one as young as 15 who came with her mother. I told Hope I would be happy to pose for her if she wanted. She asked what kind of modeling I did and I told her nude modeling. We decided that I would do so beginning the following week.

The next Tuesday I showed up and Hope was waiting…no blouse and her bra unsnapped. I took her in my arms and pressed my lips to hers and shoved my tongue in her mouth…first time I did that…and grabbed her tit and began playing with it. I told her; “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that to you mom.” Hope, who had two daughters and a son, said; “Mommy has been wanting that too son.”

Without any further ado, I stripped naked and lay down on a couch in front of Hope…my prick was hard. I don’t believe anyone who writes that he has a 9” cock or such. Mine is 6” and neither thin nor fat…seems to be just right for sucking on. Hope drew in a breath and just stared at my cock and balls. She just looked for about two minutes before I reminded her that she should be sketching. She did for about twenty minutes, then I got up and walked up behind her, resting my prick and balls on her shoulder – my cock resting against her cheek. I looked at what she had drawn – very nice work – and I said: “Mmmm…looks like you’ve seen a few cocks before, mom. Probably handled quite a few too, hmm?”

Hope played along with the role play we had created, but it was the first time I had used the word cock to her and I wasn’t sure what her response would be. She didn’t disappoint. “Honey, you know your momma loves cocks. Momma has loved men’s cocks since I was little.” I put my hands around her face and kissed her hard. As my tongue played in Hope’s mouth, I really could imagine it was my own mother I was kissing. I pushed her loosened bra out of the way and bent down to take her ancient tit into my mouth, licking and biting at the nipple as if I were nursing from my mother again.

This scenario continued two days a week for another couple of weeks, then Hope stepped up the game. When I stood behind her, my prick against her cheek, she turned and took it into her mouth and began sucking me. I moaned; “Oh mom! You’re a great cock sucker mom.” She just smiled up at me then said; “Your mommy has always been a cock sucker, honey. Your mommy’s a cum eater too.” And with that she sucked me to completion.

Over the next few years we continued the role play. I fucked Hope’s pussy and ate her out many times. Hope sucked me off at least twice a week and enjoyed having me call her “mommy”. Hope enjoyed telling me about how she and her girlfriends were curious about this size of “nigger dicks” when they were teens, and telling me that she did have one black sex partner a few years later. Unfortunately, Hope passed away a few years ago at age 94…a magnificent cock sucker to the end.

It is impossible to have remembered every date and every conversation word for word, but to the best of my memory, this is a true account.

Keys: MF mutual consent elderly sex role play

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