The Penguins’ doo-wop classic played through my radio as I rolled to a stop for the signal light at the downtown crossroads.
“Earth angel, Earth angel, will you be mine? / My darling dear, love you all the time. / I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you …”
A stream of walkers, strollers, joggers, and bicyclists paraded in the crosswalk. Just as the light changed from red to green, a spritely figure trotted between the white lines to cross the four-lane avenue. The rhythmic swinging of her arms and legs suggested youth, but her gray mop of hair gave away her age. The elder jogger waved to thank the cars in line for not killing her.
That was when I realized it was my wife Judith’s mother, Ruth. She recognized me with a big smile as she stepped onto curb. She was short and trim, wearing a pink sweatshirt, blue gym shorts, and white running shoes. Her legs were firm and smooth, not withered elderly chicken legs. Her hair was full and stylish, unlike the sparse cotton candy some old gals have on their heads.
I admired Ruth’s running as I drove past her and for the first time in my life I was sexually aroused by thinking about a 75 year old. I quickly cleared away such thoughts in a wave of self-loathing. What kind of a sleaze ball gets a hard-on for his children’s grandmother?
That weekend Judith was planning to accompany her father, Dan, to Rhode Island for the funeral of a dearly departed 90-year-old aunt. I had no intention of visiting the people who still lamented tall, bronze, and beautiful Judith marrying a short, fat, bearded Jew boy from New Jersey.
Evidently, Ruth, who added Hawaiian-Filipino spice to Dan’s Irish gene pool, couldn’t care less about her husband’s family either. Ruth would stay over our house to help me with the kids, Alex and Sam. Big Dan was a pompous ass, who badgered his daughter to go with him.
“Judy, it’s about paying respect to your elders, even if they’re shitty people and assholes.”
After dropping off Dan and Judith at the airport, I came home to find Ruth finishing a mile run with the kiddies. We fed them microwaved chicken fingers and tater tots, sat them in front of their favorite video, The Land Before Time, for the hundredth time, and listened to them recite every line of dialogue.
They even memorized the credits that rolled on the screen. To bath, to bed, and Ruth and I ended the day on the couch in the den, exhausted.
“Do you want a glass of wine, Ruthie?”
“Bring the bottle!” she giggled.
I brought an opened bottle of Chablis, even though I prefer red, and poured us two plastic cupfuls while Ruth laboriously untied her sneakers and peeled them off along with her wooly white socks. I sipped, she gulped, and asked me to fill her cup again. She swilled the second cupful as quickly as the first and poured a third one for herself. As she sat beside me on the couch, we chit-chatted amiably about the kids.
I smelled her sweaty feet and found their aroma enticing. I have never had a foot fetish and always thought guys that did were sick puppies.
However, at college twenty years ago, a bunch of us got drunk and stoned. Sprawled out on the floor, my friend’s barefoot girlfriend attracted my intoxicated attention. I started licking her feet, even though they were dirty and stinky until my friend literally kicked me away from her. She looked down at me with a cross-eyed sensual expression, her lips slightly parted, silently aroused by my worshiping her feet.
I shifted my weight on the couch to conceal the erection triggered by that memory.
Ruth confided that her joints and muscles were aching as well as her feet being sore. She was kneeding and massaging both feet, using her fingers to separate her toes, and rubbing her soles with her palms.
She had knocked off her third cup of Chablis and I gulped my second before emptying the last of the bottle into our goblets of plastic.
Ruth told me, “I don’t run in the winter. I get blisters every spring when I start back up. The callouses get hard by summer.” She finished off her wine with a gurgling sound in her throat. “Ahh!”
“You work out, don’t you?” I asked, istanbul escort drinking my vino more slowly.
She shifted her weight to sit straight up and announced proudly, “Yoga and pilates three times a week.”
I put my hand on one of her sore feet and felt the warmth of her skin. If we had been stone sober I wouldn’t have done what I did. Whether it was because Ruth was liquored up or not, I can’t say, but, for her part, my mother-in-law didn’t resist my gesture.
Instead, she relaxed her posture and closed her eyes as I began to message each foot from ankle to instep to heel, arch, and balls. I glanced at her face and recognized on Ruth’s face the same sensuous expression I had seen in that girl years ago.
“Just sit tight,” I told Ruth as she seemed to be drifting into dreamland. I went to the bathroom and retrieved a warm towel, liquid soap, and herbal lotion.
As I methodically washed, wiped, and rubbed lotion on my wife’s mother’s feet, she began to tell her innermost secrets.
“Dan and me don’t have sex anymore. Not just erectile dysfunction, his libido is dead, too. At first, when he couldn’t get an erection, he gave me oral sex … but he lost interest in doing that, too.” Ruth choked back a sob. “He kisses me goodnight and good morning, but he hasn’t touched me for years.”
The image of old Danny boy screwing Ruth was not easy to conjure up. His beachball of a belly hung over spindly legs, where his dinky could hardly reach anything in front of him, including the lady’s vagina.
Ruth spoke in a hoarse voice. “This feels so nice, Norman.” I looked up at her face and saw her eyes were closed before I noticed her hand thrust down inside the waistband of her sweatpants. My children’s grandmother was masturbating.
Again, the fruit of the vine must have soaked my brain for me even to think of begin to lick, kiss, and suck Ruthie’s feet and toes, for that is exactly what I did. I sucked every toe on both feet, licked the flesh between them, and even nibbled her tiny knuckles with my teeth.
We were both sweating while I worshipped Ruth’s feet and she was bouncing and writhing on the couch. My wife’s mom’s feminine scent reached my nostrils as I felt stickiness in my underwear.
“That was the most sensual experience I’ve had in years.” Ruth croaked as we paused and sat back on the couch.
I spoke up, “I’m sorry, Ruth. I don’t know what got into me. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
I can’t say what I might have expected Ruth to do just then, but it wasn’t what she did. As swiftly as a lioness seizing her prey, Ruth leaped into my lap, locked her lips against mine in a feverishly desperate kiss, and explored my crotch for the thing she desired. Ripping my pants while trying to pull them down, my mother-in-law grabbed my cock and whipped it with her tongue before gobbling it into her mouth.
Watching my wife’s mom suck my dick was surreal. Ruth paused to yank off her sweatshirt, unhook her bra, and juggled her drooping boobs. She lifted them for me to suck, lick, nibble, and juggle. Her red nipples were thick and erect, and her areolas were prickly.
“This is wrong, Ruthie,” I said breathlessly after sucking like a baby calf. I looked at her arched brows, high cheekbones, broad smiling lips, and round jaw line, oblivious to the loose flesh of her neck, lined forehead, and the bags beneath her eyes. “We have to stop this right now.”
Instead of stopping, my wife’s mother hovered over me and pulled down her pants, showing her cunt and ass to me. Her mons and clitoris were veiled by thin, wiry, grey hair, but the scent of Venus was as strong as an ovulating adolescent’s.
“I need you to make love to me,” she whispered coarsely, bathing my face with her hot breath. The next thing I remember is the long shaft of my cock being swallowed by Ruth’s slick fleshy labia. A grandmother twice my age fucked me with her ass humping my cock like a jackhammer. Her vaginal muscles squeezed and pulsed around my phallus and she squealed with pleasure when she came. She heaved a series of deep sighs as her pelvic thrusts slowed to gentle wiggles. istanbul escort bayan
Ruth kissed me profusely, facing me while sitting in my lap, saying how much she loved what we just did. Then she trotted off to use the bathroom, still buck naked. I felt like the most depraved low-life on the planet as I lay on the couch. My guilt mixed with fear that Judith would find out about this most foul and unforgivable act.
Upon Ruth’s return, we got dressed and she told me a story. “The last time I had sex was on our fortieth anniversary. Dan gave me a card and that’s all. No present, no flowers, no restaurant or night out on the town … no nothin’!”
She waited while I got a glass of water for her from the kitchen.
“I went to a bar and had a few pops, trying to get up the courage to pick up a man. I sat there for hours, drinking, and never spoke to anyone except the bartender.”
Ruth paused to take a sip of water.
“I ended up leavin’ with the bartender. He was a black man and he treated me so nice. A real gentleman … and you know what they say about black men? Hee-hee, it’s true. We made love several times … Dan never did it to me more than once at a time … I wanted to spend the night with him, but he had a wife and babies to get home to.”
Ruth pressed her cheek against mine and kissed me.
“Are you shocked?”
I said no, after what we just did, nothing could shock me again. After a few minutes of snuggling, I checked on the snoozing kiddies, Ruth changed into pajamas in the guest bedroom, and I fled to the bed I shared with Judith.
The next day daddy and granny fed the kids breakfast, took them down to the playground, got them pizza for lunch, drove them to Sam’s soccer game followed by Alex’s soccer game at a different field across town, and ushered them back home for dinner, baths, and into their beds.
Ruth joked about the way Dan always asks why we didn’t go to church on Sunday and I answer for the hundredth time that Shabbat is Saturday, even though we only go to temple twice a year anyhow.
I might have expected my mother-in-law to act like nothing had happened between us the night before. Rather she gave me a coy little smile, winked at me, and gently touched my arm, my shoulder, or my hand.
At dinner, Alex chewed a broccoli floret and spit it out on the tablecloth. Ruth gave him a playful tap on the head and scolded, “Naughty boy!” Then she giggled, adding, “Just like your daddy.” There was no mistaking the sexually suggestive smile she flashed me.
I was hung over and sluggish all day Sunday, although Ruth seemed none the worse for wear. I told her I was hitting the sack early and by ten o’clock I was in bed, listening to some oldies on my i-pod. Ruth was showering in the bathroom across the hall. Between the Cadillacs’ Speed-o and Little Willie John’s Fever, I heard the barest trace of a tapping on my door.
Looking adorably youthful, my wife’s mom chirped, “Hi, there!” Ruth’s straight grey-white hair was wet and she was wearing Judy’s white terrycloth robe. She came and knelt on the edge of the bed as I sat up with the covers up to my waist.
Ruth averted her eyes and didn’t speak as she untied the robe, opened the front, and let it drop to the floor after she took it off. Naked in all her wrinkled glory, she wrapped her arms around the back of my neck and brought her lips right up to my left ear. “I need you tonight, Norman.” I turned off the lights.
Ruth was a mature cougar who knew what she wanted and where to find it. She took my cock and balls in her two hands, feverishly kissed and licked my inner thighs, flicked her tongue on the fleshy underside of my shaft, nibbled the hairs surrounding my sprouting manhood, wrapped her moist lips around the crown, and sucked down every drop of my juice that spurted against the roof of her mouth.
She kept my dick in her mouth until I was completely dry, soft, and limp. Then she swam under the covers to kiss me and we made out, softly at first and then more frenetically, open-mouthed and tongues sucking and fluttering. Next, Ruthie climbed on me as if istanbul bayan escort I were a great mountain and lifted her sagging tits for me to fondle and suckle. She caressed and kissed my face and rubbed her sopping cunt on my stomach while I made love to her baggy old girls.
That was when she heard the Penguins; Ruth squealed like a teenager. “Oh, this song was popular when I was in high school.” She began to sing, a little off key, but with an adolescent’s enthusiasm:
“… I fell for you and I knew the vision of your loveliness./I hope and pray that someday I’ll be the vision of your happiness…”
As if she were inspired by the golden oldie, my children’s grandmother rolled onto her back and pulled me down on her with my head between her spread-eagled legs.
One might have expected her ancient vagina to be dry, withered, damp with urine, and smelling of mildew or mothballs. Not so! Ruth’s labia were fleshy and pink, her clitoris was erect and thick, her vulva was juicy, and my fingers entered her hourglass, surrounded by velvety warmth. Her cunt’s juice flowed like honey on my lips.
She moaned in orgasm with my tongue fluttering outside her fleshy bump and my finger dithering her g-spot. She relaxed her taught thigh muscles just as I took a swipe at her ass crack with my tongue. “Oh, my!” she crooned, adding, “Roy did that to me, too.”
“Who’s Roy?” I asked.
“My bartender,” she answered unselfconsciously.
A moment later, we were locked in a hard and vigorous embrace as my rooster pressed against her firewall, grew longer and harder, and she enveloped it in her flower garden. We bounced, wiggled, rocked, rolled, and writhed. Ruth panted breathlessly while I grunted, sighed, and sweated. Just as an orgasm started to wrack her thin, aging body, she yelped and I froze. “Shush, the kids!”
Shaking with laughter, she spoke in a teeny child’s voice, “What are you doin’ to grandma, daddy?”
When I spoke the words “fuckin’ her” in a muffled voice against her neck, Ruth began gyrating under the thrusting of my cock and danced with me for a full five minutes until I uncorked. I filled her old gunny sack with so much jelly it oozed all over our flanks.
Ruth, a woman thirty years my senior, snuggled in my arms, smiling and giddy, acting like a poodle-skirted teen who had just surrendered her virginity and thoroughly enjoyed doing so. Inevitably, she got serious.
“Dan and Judith come home tomorrow and our little game is over. If Danny ever found out, he’d kill you and if Judy ever found out, it’d kill her. We must never speak of this to anyone, ever.”
I agreed, “You have my word.” Then she leaned over and kissed my bare butt cheek.
Ruth rose from the bed, picked up the bathrobe from the floor, wrapped it around her shoulders, and stepped toward the door. Before opening it, she turned around and said, “Thank you, Norman. It was wonderful.” Then she was gone and I slept like a bear in hibernation till morning.
Judith and Dan were due to fly home late Monday morning. So, Ruth had to get the little girl and boy safely off to school while I took the day off from work to do pickup duty at the airport.
Once back on the ground, Ruth and Dan resumed their lifelong routine of bickering and kvetching, arguing about where to go for an early bird special later that afternoon.
“Why don’t you cook like a normal wife?”
“Why don’t you cook like a modern husband?”
“Let’s go to the steak house.”
After dinner, Judith wanted to watch her favorite reality show, Glamour Family. I sat with her, fetched her chips and dips, and refilled her glass of diet cola.
Unexpectedly, she said, “Mom told me what you did together.”
My heart was filled with terror. The pang in my stomach nearly took my breath away. It was all I could to keep my ass closed, for fear of shitting myself. I dared not speak.
“She told me how you spent time with her, keeping her company. She said you were very sweet to her.”
I relaxed and began breathing more evenly once again. “I like Ruth. We always got along okay.”
Judith smiled at me. “She said she loves you and she’s glad I married you … And she said I was a lucky little lady. What do you suppose she meant by that?”
I shook my head and put my arm around my wife. “Jude, I have no idea.” Then I kissed her lips.
Judith touched my wood and felt it stiffen. “Let’s go to bed, Norm.”
THE END