The sound of a blaring car horn shattering the still morning air prematurely ended my exotic wet dream of sex starved nymphs pampering my aged torso with gleeful abandon. Didn’t have many of these dream at my age, and silently cursed the owner of the blaring horn knowing it would be highly unlikely to recapture the erotic sensations. Vivian, my trusted companion for the past thirty five years was snoring blissfully next to me with the sheets haphazardly pushed to the foot of the bed. The years had been good to her, a little larger and less will defined than earlier, but when compared to some of the flotsam thundering through Walmart, I considered myself fortunate. Quietly I rolled out of bed and staggered out to the kitchen to get the coffee started. The daily rag was thoughtfully stuck in the mail slot, and I separated the sections and began my morning ritual of digesting the sensationalized BS.
Viv was a light sleeper and was soon shuffling to the kitchen table where I sat in her threadbare robe and bunny slippers. Her hair looked as if it has experienced the business end of a thermonuclear air burst, and her eyes showed a few more wrinkles than they revealed when she wore the face paint it took half on hour to apply before she even considered the thought of leaving the condo. Staggering over to the coffee maker silently, she poured a cup of joe and ceremoniously sprinkled it with powdered creamer before wandering over to the table and plopping down unceremoniously. She glanced at me briefly while I was buried in the headlines and took a tentative sip before opening the “Family Section.” Viv liked that section with all the pictures of folks in the community and the Want Ads that posted all the garage sales she and I would frequent most every weekend. Fortunately, Viv had a keen sense of direction and we seldom required a map during our weekend ventures through the sprawling suburbs.
The almost oppressive silence was broken sometime later when Viv spoke up.
“Hey Jack, take a look at this,” she said as she handed me a page of the want ads.
“OK dear, what am I looking at?”
“There’s an add for ED down in the lower right hand sheet. . .” she mumbled, “some new kind of treatment and they make house calls.”
“Oh come on now,” I replied indifferently. “Probably just another scam.” My “delivery system” went into retirement shortly after I had, and nothing had revived it to its former glory. We tried creams, pills, awkward pumps, and even briefly discussed surgical implants, but combined with Viv’s dry and raspy interior, we both inevitably decided to leave well enough alone. I do miss my morning woody at times, like after last nights juicy dream, but the reality was that I’d probably croak with a heart attack if coitus was ever attempted.
Viv snatched the paper back and refocused on the article. “I’m going to call them anyway,” she stated firmly. “It says it won’t cost anything.”
“Honey,” I began tentatively, “I smell rip-off from the get go. Can’t we let just let a sleeping dog lie?”
“Jack, you may not believe this, but there are still times when I wouldn’t mind feeling your ‘sleeping dog’ inside me;” she punched the numbers on the cordless phone keypad and listened thoughtfully.
“There’s cucumbers in the fridge you know,” I offered, already resigned to the forthcoming experience in futility. Vivian glared at me until someone answered the phone on the other end.
Viv gave surprisingly little information and hung up with a smug look on her face. “They’ll be here this afternoon.”
I nodded indifferently, and studied the stats from last nights game. At this point in my life, I have learned to take things as they come. Most all my friends had evolved beyond the wild sperm shooting hunts of our youth towards a mature collective of story tellers that had virtually forgotten performance and conquest issues. Sex was for the young and dumb, far too often resulting in regrets rather than long term fulfillment. Despite the constant array of commercials encouraging youthful pursuits, we were quite content with past conquests and our daily regimen of prescribed medications.
Shortly after one thirty in the afternoon, a small white delivery van pulled into the guest parking and two white figures emerged carrying small bags. The van had a small emblem on the side that I couldn’t decipher. Viv answered the door and offered a seat on the couch opposite the two easy chairs she and I most occupied. The male and female “technicians” were strikingly unremarkable in their appearance, early thirties I would guess and set about their tasks quickly and professionally. First, there were a battery of questions concerning our medical backgrounds which was quickly followed by a brief (yet stimulating) physical exam. The male member had my wife disrobe while the female member took me under counsel.
Standing semi-naked, she unemotionally pulled down my bvds and gently examined the offending flesh with the curiosity of a virgins first time exploration. Her hands were cool and baby soft, gently manipulating my bahis firmaları wrinkled and lifeless flesh. Although no apparent physical reaction was triggered, the feeling of her gentle manipulations induced sensations that my dreams evoked. Meanwhile, Vivian was slouched in the chair as skillful fingers stirred her genitals into noticeable arousal. The air became thick with her essence and her genitals became fully engorged. The angry red swelling of her clitoris transported me back briefly to the passion filled nights of our youth when she would moan with sexual abandon and squirt forcefully upon climax. Flushed, with hearts pounding and libidos raging, we sank into our perspective chairs to await our prognosis. It had been a most arousing inspection, and I briefly wondered if our two visitors were a new kind of deviant that preyed on aging couples.
From their bags, they withdrew two syringes with a different color extract in each one before sitting on the couch. They explained they were from the Stellar Regenerative Institute, a research community that focused upon procreative dysfunction. They had developed several experimental inoculations that target biological reconstruction through tiny
nanobots. The cumbots (as they were called) would remain active for 48 to 72 hours before being eliminated through the urine with very little discomfort. Thus far, the results were promising and permanent. With over a 98% success rate, we could become the newest participants in this treatment with merely a signature on a consent form and a follow-up phone call.
Vivian was enthusiastic, but I was skeptical. Perhaps years of work in the competitive world had made me so. I always searched for the downside to balance against the positive benefits. This “treatment” triggered alarm bells for several reasons. First, I’m not to keen on inserting mechanical devices into biological organisms (see surgical implants noted above). Second, these “cumbots” were injected into my urethra. Forgive me for my belief in the creation of a tube for elimination shouldn’t be used conversely.
I hate enemas for that reason. Finally, along with a fore mentioned “sleeping dog” rational, sex can be both mentally and physically stressful – a condition my Doctor recommended I avoid. We had cucumbers, bananas, my tongue, fingers and no need for impregnation. Needless to say, with a few more assurances and Vivian’s ever present encouragement, the technician was soon on her knees in front of me easing my underwear over my knees unceremoniously.
Opening a sterile package containing a long thin flexible tube, she screwed it into the vial with greenish yellow liquid. Firmly holding my lifeless organ upright, she guided the tube in slowly with both hands and returned to bracing my now stunned organ with one hand while the other slowly eased the pre-lubed tube down its length and adjacent to my prostrate where it stopped. Vivian had her legs draped over the arms of her recliner as the male technician screwed a small perforated phallus on to the vial filled with reddish brown liquid. He slowly eased the phallus into her quivering birth canal until it disappeared completely as she drew a deep breath. Almost simultaneously, the technicians pressed the plungers and Vivian an I squirmed with the disquieting sensations of our mutual fluid invasion.
I experienced a slight burning sensation quickly followed by the unmistakable urge to pee. Vivian began to squirm rhythmically until, as the contents were completely drained, she firmly grabbed the technicians free hand and held it to her vulva thrusting her hips in the unmistakable throes of orgasm. Her face and torso were so red they could have stopped rush hour traffic on the freeway. My technician firmly pinched the glans as she withdrew the syringe, trapping the sickly green colored substance securely inside. My prostrate protested vehemently for several seconds, attempting to expel the invaders with rhythmic contractions. The technicians kept the injection sites effectively blocked for several minutes before slowly releasing their pressure. Surprisingly, very little liquid escaped while we were gently massaged and wiped clean. With cool efficiency, they gathered the waste into a small hazardous waste plastic bag. Grabbing their bags, they waved and left after placing an information sheet and business card on the coffee table.
A few minutes passed before the previous events settled amidst the scent of Viv’s arousal. My balls felt too big and it felt like tiny needles were indiscriminately pricking my internal plumbing. Viv appeared exhausted, her legs splayed wide open as the redness in her upper torso gradually dissipated. Gingerly I eased myself up and shuffled over to the coffee table to study the information sheet. It advised us not to pee for half an hour, and the Institute would call in a week to ten days to ask a few questions and discuss any issues. The business card had a small green and red emblem with an 800-number printed on cheap white index paper. The entire evolution was like the business card: quick, efficient, kaçak iddaa and simple. We’d soon find out if my suspicions were justified.
“Was it good for you,” I asked as Vivian pulled her legs down into a more feminine pose and adjusted her clothes.
“Hmmm yeah,” she murmured, “Feel anything, yet?”
“Don’t know quite what to feel, Honey. I think a trip over to the Local Ice Cream parlor may be in order.”
“Let me change,” she replied enthusiastically. As she struggled to her feet, now void of bunny slippers, her unsteadiness prompted me to wrap my arm around her. She swiveled on to my leg and with a couple of forcible thrusts of her hips, bathed my naked thing with her orgasmic essence. Her body trembled for several minutes as her euphoria waned and her essence pooled around my foot.
“Damn, I’m officially impressed,” I exclaimed as her eyes fluttered open signally her return to reality.
“You have no idea. . .,” she whispered, obviously embarrassed, as she turned for the bedroom. Pulling on my pants sans underwear, I reflected that my aging wife had never been so aroused, even during our all night marathons of years past. Briefly I pondered the serums longevity, by quickly dispelled my doubts in favor of a wait and see posture. A quick trip to the head to comb my thinning hair and wipe my leg and we were off, hand in hand. En route I queried about her treatment.
“They asked and the price was right,” she quipped enthusiastically, and planted a gentle kiss on my cheek.
“Wise choice,” I returned as we strolled towards the parlor with the cheesy grins of young lovers in lust.
We splurged on Neapolitan banana splits and waited in wrought iron, stick in the butt chairs near the window. The world seemed so far away, as we held hands and watched the younger generation hurriedly roaming the streets. The ice cream wasn’t really all that hard and the excess of toppings were guaranteed to keep us on a sugar rush for a week, but the bananas were good. As I took my second bite, I was startled by the age old, pulse pounding, sensation emanating from my groin. A quick nonchalant glance revealed tenting trousers. I dropped my spoon in stunned silence – my dormant delivery system, had spontaneously and miraculously arisen. No explanation was necessary as Vivian’s foot slid up my leg and she wrapped her toes seductively around the throbbing shaft. Her neck began to reddened and her eyes doubled in size at her discovery. Excusing myself with a nod, I grabbed the flimsy menu in a sloppy attempt to hide my modesty and headed to the small restroom, thoughtfully equipped with a handicapped stall.
The spring loaded door slammed shut, as I dropped my trouser to witness the glorious throbbing revival of my masculinity long ago left for dead. My hand automatically closed around the smooth hard shaft, no longer limp and unresponsive. My glans was shiny and bulging with anticipation, and my balls slid into their standby position. I was overjoyed. The door suddenly slammed into my back and there stood wild eyed Vivian licking her lips. Before I could lodge a protest, she spun me around and pushed me onto the head (fortunately, the seat was down). She straddled my legs and plopped onto my lap, fumbling to pull aside her underwear and position my organ at the mouth of her slick engorged entrance. As she slowly slid down my length, she uttered a low fulfilling moan, and I experienced the tightest, warmest, silkiest intimate embrace I could ever remember. I was alive with delicious sensation, as she positioned herself to completely engulf me and satisfy herself. Our lips locked passionately. She ground her hips in a circular motion and threw her head back while emitting lust filled whimpers. My engorged glans probed the delicious feminine folds as they caressed my invader ardently. Suddenly her whole body tightened and with a high pitched squeak, her body quivered uncontrollable like a high rise in an earthquake. She tightened around me with painful force; my organ bulging obscenely in her warm wanton depths.
With raspy jagged breaths, she resumed her assault, and I took the liberty to engulf her pendulous breast as they jiggled in my face. Her nipples were hard enough to cut diamonds. A few seconds later, she erupted again, bathing my lap in her silky essence. Again she trembled uncontrollably, and I became lost in her bodies’ beautiful response. Now gasping for breath, she began her pelvic thrusts once again with wild abandon. I lost control, trying to halt the inevitable on rush of essence my balls were releasing. She squeaked again and I let go of the moment, bellowing like a castrated bull as years of pent up passion erupted into her warm silky core. She screamed and embraced me as if entrenched in a life or death struggle as my life giving reservoir burst and flooded her intimate depths beyond capacity. Our collective eruptions bathed our torsos, filling the air with our unique sex scent. I immediately experienced a cramp in my back and eased her off me with an agonizing shove. She collapsed on the floor in a fetal position, kaçak bahis trembling and muttering incoherently, as I leaned back to relax the tormented muscles, cursing silently for my lack of conditioning. My delivery system softened slightly, but I knew it could rise again if given the opportunity.
The pain eased mercifully, and I reached down and stroked Vivian’s matted hair when the owner of the parlor burst in and yelled “What’s going on in here,” with a deep baritone voice. In a panic I desperately searched for a response.
“Think I passed a kidney stone,” I responded, burying my head in my hands as soon as I heard my response.
The door swung open, and with a quick appraisal he shook his head, confirming any doubts that my response was ill concieved.
“You might want to consider passing stones in a more appropriate establishment in the future,” he offered with slight smile. “I’ll get one of the boys clean up in here when you leave.”
“Thanks. . .here,” I handed him a five stuffed in my shirt pocket, “A tip for the trouble.” He pocketed the bill and gave a dismissal nod. Gently I eased Viv into a sitting position as her body still quaked with mini spasms.
“We gotta go, Babe.”
She smiled gratefully at me and gently stroked my hand lovingly. “That’s the first time you called me ‘babe’ since our honeymoon,” she murmured gratefully.
“I’m sorry,” I offered as I gently pulled her to her feet and helped to arrange her attire.
“I’ll always be your babe Jack.” I patted her on her rump, a gesture of affection we had employed most of our mature lives and guided her into the parlor. Our order had been replaced with a fresh albeit covered replacement and the owner gave us a two fingered scout salute as we hurried through the glass door.
“That was awkward'” Vivian offered as we neared our condo. I stopped and gave her a hug. We finished our walk and I threw the partially thawed splits into the freezer. When I entered the bedroom, Vivian was sleeping soundly, with her clothes strewn about her. The delicious sensations of the shower swirled through my memories as the warm water soothed my sore muscles. Making a mental commitment to commence a thorough exercise program, I slipped on a pair of clean sweats and flipped on the brainless box. A cool Bud joined me as the weather man tried to draw a convincing picture of what may come tomorrow. I realized a new chapter in my life with Viv had begun and I vowed to enjoy every moment.
As dusk settled, I prepared soup and sandwiches and placed the loaded serving tray gingerly next to my Viv. She stirred and with a grateful smile, dove into the fixin’s. About half way through, she dropped her sandwich onto the tray and gazed at me lovingly.
“How do you feel, Jack?”
“Whole, and you?”
“Empty, get over her and give me some sugar!”
I dropped my sandwich and gave her a passionate lip lock. Her hands went into action immediately, probing those secret places that always gave me rise. I pulled her clothes aside and buried my head between those two delicious orbs that had fed our offspring and provided countless hours of entertainment throughout our lifetimes together. Her hands slipped to my engorged genitals, and explored the unique characteristics lovingly before rolling me forcefully on my back and positioning herself over the throbbing shaft. With a swift downward thrust, I was buried balls deep in her delicious core, savoring the delicious coital cock tugs as she rode me like a possessed succubus. The normally silent bedroom atmosphere was soon punctuated with our mutual chorus of renewed passion and fulfillment. I don’t know how many times we surrendered our collective essence. I only know that at some point, with our bodies and libidos exhausted, we fell into a fit full sleep, wrapped in cum soaked covers.
The morning dawn came way to soon. My body ached, my head throbbed unrelentingly, and when I withdrew the tented sheets, my rock hard, nail driving woody sprang into view in all its glory. I groaned and stared at the ceiling, painfully aware the spirit was willing, but its life support system was marginal, at best. A dull groan from the other side of the bed announced Vivian had drawn a similar conclusion. I rolled on my side to embrace her, my delivery system probing her fleshy bottom mindlessly until it slipped into her soft, slightly moist folds.
“What’s that,” she murmured dreamily.
“It’s a one-eyed space alien in search of the origin of life,” I quipped marveling at my spontaneous ability to fabricate an explanation.
Her fingers guided my glans into her sweet spot as she murmured: “Let’s give it the deluxe tour.” Like a vintage machine, creaking and grunting to life after a decade of inactivity, my hips slowly forced my glans past the tight entrance into the warm depths, gradually increasing their strokes as her arousal triggered an influx of lubricating moisture. She grunted with each thrust; the sound of a contented kitten makes when you stroke it’s chin on your lap. Before I reached my optimal thrust cycle, she froze and clamped down on the alien invader forcefully, bathing my delivery system with sweet smelling perfume. Her poor tortured body quivered weakly, and she released a long mournful moan of contentment.