The Gray Hair Society - sex story

The Gray Hair Society

Her blue gray frock of hair was getting sparser. While her
eyes still kept the youthful glow of a young dancer, her body sagged
from many years of life. Old Betty sat perched on her bench in the
park by the Library eating her lunch in complete silence. The kind of
silence that let only the sweet sounds of spring in and the many
voices of humanity at bay. She sat there letting the drone of
civilization fade away until nothing, but the cheery chirps of the
birds above calmed her. She daintily tossed breadcrumbs to the

She sat there until boredom beckoned her to join mankind once
more. She got her stuff together. She picked up her purse. It was
more like a satchel and slung over it over her shoulder. It was her
granny disguise, as she liked to call it. The bag held in it
everything, but the kitchen sink. If anyone asked, "Why such a heavy
purse?" She would politely say, "It keeps me in shape!"

She was off to visit with the rest of the Gray Hair Society,a
society of elders, that frequent park benches and malls. In the
distance, there were two young lovers embracing. For a moment, she
missed the achingly sweet caress of her long lost husband, Willie.
She became a widow ten years ago.

Her nipples hardened, as she remembered his sturdy grasp. His
strong tanned face haunted her and she missed the companionship.
There was nothing else that could come close to the love she felt for
her dead husband. No amount of boring bridge games, bingo, or time
with her friends could keep him out of her mind. Not even the comfort
of life replenishing carrot cake would suffice.

The young couple had gotten really into their rendezvous.
Their embrace got bolder. Memories haunted the old woman. She was
able to see the golden hair of the young man slide his arm underneath
the young woman's blouse. With ease, he unhooked her bra. The young
woman free of all thought, but passion, threw her head back as the
young man quickly massaged her soft breasts. The old woman quivered
in voyeuristic curiosity as the two lovebirds fell back onto the
floral design beach blanket.

The young couple, hidden from sight by the many trees, bushes
and plants, never suspected to be viewed by an elderly old woman
eating her lunch in the park. Their minds were on one thing and one
thing only, sexual fulfillment. Her skirt became bunched up on her
abdomen as the young man pulled aside the thin wisp of panty covering.
He seemed to devour her cunt with his mouth.

In ecstasy, the young woman suppressed a moan. Her face
contorted into an obscene grimace of pleasure. The strength of her
orgasm was evident in her facial expression. The man eager for his
own pleasure shucked his pants and began to insert his manhood into
her. His buttocks glistened in the sun, as they bucked slowly up and
down. The song was almost over. The chorus of nature around them
began to chirp in harmony of the pure beauty of sex. The crescendo
peaked and a loud moan, unsuppressed, bellowed the final note.

She got a hold of herself and walked towards the Bus stop.
The wetness between her legs did nothing but remind her of the nights
and days of her past marital bliss. Her pulse, heavy with excitement,
raced. She needed love.

She boarded the greyhound bus, hustling to the back. She was
in luck there was a prime choice of seats today. She used to like the
bus. There was nothing like checking out the wonderfully interesting
patrons. Her people watching prowess was instilled into her by her
late husband, who had been a talented writer. He used to be able to
pick a person from a crowd and make a character sketch just by
observing their behavior. He was talented like that.

In fact, his penchant for this kind of fun was most arousing.
His stories sometimes got a bit risqué. She would never admit it, but
she always loved his dirty little mind. Even in his later years, he
was a dirty old man. He would be the first one to speak out against
the myth that after a certain age those feelings and actions stopped.
In fact, her retirement years were filled with the most wonderful

She sat back against the cold, slime-green bus seat and
pondered her next move. She was heading home. There were still three
more stops until she got off. On the first stop, another member of
the gray hair society boarded. It was Myrtle. She wondered if Myrtle
was ever young. Her named was a perfect granny name, the kind of name
that was synonymous with cookies and milk, large print, and denture
adhesive. She wondered, if she too dreamt of slipping out of her skin
and flying through the night, free. She wondered if she felt like a
prisoner in her old saggy hide.

The next stop a young man entered. Oh, how he looked like
Willie in his prime. Tall, tan and sexy, he walked with an air of
self-confidence. Even his spectacles looked like Will's. They could
not keep the fire from glaring through. Blue eyes. Deep, blue eyes
looked at her with a mischievous grin. He sauntered to the back of
the bus. He sat down on the seat next to her. His pearly teeth
gleamed at her as he smiled a "Hello." She nodded in acknowledgment.
She had met Willie on a bus.

He leaned close to her and said, "See the man in the suit?"

She looked over at a man dressed up in a suit coat and tie and
said, "Yes, Why?"

"He's a spy. You can tell by the way that he is carrying his
suitcase. Do you see it?"

"I am sorry?" She replied.

"You can tell a lot by what a person does. All you have to do
is watch them closely."

He took her hand into his, as a sudden light flashed before
her eyes. A tunnel of the purest white light she had ever seen
opened. She looked at Willie and smiled. Together they walked into
the warm embrace of heaven.

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