There’d been plenty of booze and lots of pot. Somebody brought some Quaaludes. The dancing and flirting over, maybe eight of us lay around in various stages of nodding off. We’d talked of the esoteric, important and poignant subjects for hours.

Tom had been, if not the life of the party, its soul. He’d engaged easily, interjecting common sense whenever the conversation went too far-out. I’d been lusting after him all evening, my pussy moist and swollen with him. Now I’m on the sofa, my legs across his lap. He and I the only ones still conscious, speaking in hushed tones so as not to wake the others.

But now I feel him under my skirt, knuckles pressing into my slick mound. Looking over to see that everyone’s still asleep, I push back into his hand. He stretches alongside me, turning my face to the sofa back.

“Shhh,” he whispers. “Bite into the pillow.”

Lifting a knee allows him access. Undies pulled aside, he slides into my grateful pussy from behind. We engage in a slow, silent challenge of a fuck. We come, my whimpering mouth full of soggy cushion.

A pattering of applause erupts unexpected.

© 2012 Daddy X. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Bio: Daddy X always wanted to be a dirty old man.
He’s survived the 40’s, 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, and George W. Bush. He maintained good humor throughout Catholic school, a paper route, muskrat trapping, a steel mill, Bucks County, Haight Ashbury, North Beach, Castro Street, the Mendocino Coast, the SF bar business, drug addiction, alcoholism, a stroke, Hep C, cancer, a liver transplant, a year of interferon, a stickup at his ancient art gallery while tied to a desk (not as cool as it sounds), a triple bypass, and George W. Bush.
Now he’s old, and it’s time to get dirty.
He’s been with Momma X (greatest editor on earth) for fifty years, but she thinks his stuff is too skievy to deal with. They live in northern California with an epileptic 90 lb lop-eared hound (17″ wingspan) and two cats. They raise little green girls to medicinal maturity each and every year.