My Senior Moments

Jeff thinks life is basically for him when he moves into a seniors' apartment, but he is desperately sought after by the facility's high percentage of women!

Part One

It’s always been one of the great physiological mysteries of mankind: Why is it that a male typically reaches his sexual peak at about age 19, while women commonly don’t attain theirs until their mid-thirties? If men can father children until the day they die, you would think that Mother Nature would have made it easier for them to do so.

Be that as it may, it was early in March of 1962 when I, 74-year-old widower Jefferson (Jeff) Talmadge, moved out of the home I had occupied for 40 years and into a small apartment in a seniors’ home on the other side of the city. I was not an invalid; I was far from it—but I wasn’t as mobile as I had once been. I occasionally suffered from unexpected dizzy spells which prompted my three concerned adult children to seize my driver’s license and inform me that my days of being behind a steering wheel had now ended. Without a car, getting around my small town or to another community was quite difficult as there was no cheap public transportation available. It was determined, with my consent, that the best place for me was to get an apartment at The Oaks & Pines. It was a fairly new seniors’ facility, less than a decade old, where I no longer had to cook or do any housework or yardwork.

As a male, I was definitely a minority in this community. I remembered reading years earlier that the average “old folks’ home” in America had a female-to-male ratio of about 11:1. Thus, only 8.5% of residents in these places were men. Within a day of my arrival, I knew that ballpark figure seemed to be accurate here. Out of curiosity, I asked one of the head honchos—who was also a woman—how the population here was broken down by gender. I was told that just 6 of the 56 residents were males. That was not quite 11%. However, two of those males lived in special “married-couples’ units with their spouses. That meant I was just one of four single males residing at The Oaks & Pines. The woman advised me with a smile that I could expect to receive plenty of attention and affection from numerous amorous females—especially since I was still spritely. She was correct about that!

Sure enough, I never lacked for female companionship at mealtimes in the dining room, or at any of the facility’s events, or just when I was strolling about the grounds for some exercise. Three days after my arrival, I was invited to share a bed with a woman named Nancy Edgewater. She was approximately my age. Of course, I was no longer a teenager when it came to sexual stamina, but I did my best. With a bit of effort, I deposited a fairly substantial load of goo into her pussy. “God bless you!” she merrily told me between the sheets. A week later she suddenly died from cardiac arrest. I sincerely wondered if our encounter had been a factor in her premature demise.

Before she died, Nancy had apparently bragged to several of her friends over lunch that she “had bagged the new gentleman” and that I was still a capable, sexually active male. I quickly had four more women eager to be ridden. Sadly, although the mind was willing, my 74-year-old body was not quite up to the task—in every sense of the word. I satisfactorily serviced two of the gals in the space of five days. Two of the others did not receive my special gift as I was unable to obtain an erection with either of them. That was a first in my life—and it was rather embarrassing. Still, my bedmates were somewhat understanding about it. I promised both of them I would seek medical help and return someday for a second try to perform the ultimate manly duty on them.

The Oaks & Pines was located about half a block from a hospital. There was always a physician on loan to us. Often, he/she had nothing to do for entire shifts. I specifically waited until I noticed a male doctor was on call one morning. He, Dr. Mortimer, was happy to see me to break up the monotony. I told him I was unhappy about my recent biological bedroom failures. Dr. Mortimer urged me to keep trying as often as possible because, as he put it, “If you don’t use your muscles regularly, they begin to atrophy.” To make sure I understood what he was trying to say, he emphasized, “That applies to all your muscles. Get it?” I certainly did! To help me along, he suggested I buy certain roots and herbs from a health food store. These exotic substances purportedly assisted men my age to get and maintain erections. I thanked him for the advice and put those items on my shopping list.

Of course, none of the residents actually did their own shopping. The procedure was to forward your shopping list to someone at the front desk. It would be passed along to a volunteer shopper. Once an item was delivered to a resident, its cost was put on his/her monthly bill. It was a very efficient system. My purchase at the health food store was made by Vicky Skanes, a fortyish woman who had been employed at The Oaks & Pines since Day One. Quite an attractive lady, she wore many hats in her job; one of them was the equivalent of a hotel concierge. I found that out because one afternoon, during my regular walk, Vicky stopped me in the hallway to ask if “Dr. Mortimer’s herbs and roots had produced the desired effect where it counted.”

I was flabbergasted by the bluntness of her inquiry. I did not know what to say. She did, though.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Mr. Talmadge,” she began. “We frequently buy this product for our male residents—especially those who consult with Dr. Mortimer. At first, I didn’t know what it was for, so I asked the proprietor of the health food store. He told me. Frankly, I think it’s marvelous that you want to stay sexually active at age 74.”

I just smiled for a moment. Then I told her she could call me Jeff. I asked her how she knew my age.
“I have access to the residents’ files, Jeff,” she explained. “I made a point of looking at your file after I did your shopping. Maybe I can help you with your delicate issue.”

“Well, you got those herbs and roots for me, which I thank you for doing. I’ve been taking them for about two days now. I’m not sure what else you can do for me.”
Vicky had a ready answer for that statement, too. “You can test out your libido on me,” she declared. “I’d like to do that for you. You seem like such a nice gentleman. Besides, Jeff, I heard good things about you from a handful of women here.”
I was utterly astonished—but very interested. I spoke to her in the quietest possible voice. “Am I to understand that you want to hop into bed with an old fellow like me? Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, but why would you want to have sexual relations with me? I’ve got to be at least 30 years older than you are.”

Through a mischievous smile Vicky told me with an equally soft voice, “I just turned 42 last month, so our age difference is 32 years. I’ve been divorced for six years. I like sex, I don’t get enough, and, best of all for you, I prefer older men. In fact, the first time I ever had sex, I was 12 and the man was a 51-year-old neighbor. I instigated it because even then I thought older men were very handsome. They’re also usually kind and gentle, too. He was a truly wonderful sex partner.” Vicky paused for a moment and asked me, “Jeff, do you want to have sex with me or not? My shift ends in about 15 minutes. I know your apartment number. How about I meet you there in 20 minutes and together we can have a good fuck!”

I looked at my wristwatch. “Okay! Walk into my apartment in 20 minutes, Vicky. That would be 3:05 p.m. Don’t bother to knock. I’ll make sure the door is unlocked. I’ll be the horny, naked guy lying on the bed.”

Part Two

When I had decided to sell my home and move into an apartment at The Oaks & Pines, I was saddened by all the things I was losing, such as my car, my longtime neighbors, and so forth. I had not considered there would be any unexpected benefits. But as I eagerly awaited Vicky’s arrival, I noted that she would be the sixth different woman who would be sharing my bed within my first two weeks as a resident here. That was fairly regular sex for a guy who was nearly three-quarters of a century old! Hooray for me!

Vicky complied with my instructions. She did not bother to knock on my apartment door. She just sauntered in as this was an everyday occurrence for her. Hey, maybe it was! Also, as promised, I was lying in the center of the bed, totally naked. I was proudly displaying a partial erection. “I see the herbs and roots are starting to work,” she noted. “You must be a very happy fellow.”

“Of course,” I replied, “but I also give credit to you. My anticipation of having sex with you, Vicky, certainly got a rise out of me. I am so grateful to you.”

“Glad to do it!” Vicky insisted. “Let me give you a bit of a strip show to start things off.”
She promptly unbuttoned the pristine white blouse that was part of her uniform, revealing a beige C-cup bra that was built to highlight her lovely breasts. It was very sexy. She slowly undid the clasp, letting her tits drop downward with several bounces.

“Very nice!” I complimented her. “I’m going to enjoy them!”

Vicky then removed her knee-high black skirt, shoes and nylons. Her last garment, pink panties, fell to the floor dramatically. She spun around so I could get a 360-degree look at her in the buff. I gave her a round of applause.

“Look at this,” I said as I pointed to my fully erect phallus. “I believe my dick is sufficiently hard, Vicky. I’d say it’s time to put it to use for some adult fun!”

Since she was 32 years younger than I was, I happily let Vicky dictate our horizontal activities and their pace. She snuggled up beside me, and we had a few short kisses after which she began to tug on my rod. “Just testing it!” she told me with a smile.

“I hope I pass the test—or else I want my money refunded from the health food store,” I jokingly exclaimed.

While Vicky continued with her vigorous hand job, I began to pass the time by enjoying her luscious tits. I happily caressed them to start with. Then I proceeded to lick them and suck on them, moving left to right and then right to left. Her nipples got hard quickly, making her boobs even more desirable to me. “I could fondle these tits of yours all day, Vicky. They are magnificent things!” I honestly reported.

“You have a very nice dick, too,” she praised me in return. “It seems to be working fine today. I’ll be mounting you next. Then we’ll know for certain if it’s back to normal, won’t we?”

“Climb aboard and fuck!” I instructed her. “I want to fire a load of semen into that sexy young pussy of yours!”

“Young!” she laughed. “Hey, I told you I am 42.”

“All things are relative,” I insisted. “The dick you are about to enjoy is 74 years young.”

Vicky did climb aboard. My hard penis felt wonderful inside her vaginal chute. She gyrated and bounced energetically, pleasing herself (and me, of course). Just as I was about to ejaculate, I rolled Vicky onto her back and assumed a classic missionary position to launch my semen. A half dozen strong but loving thrusts, and I felt the familiar, wonderful sensation of jism leaving my dick and entering my lover’s cunt. It felt as good at age 74 in 1962 as it did at the turn of the century when, at age 14 in 1902, I made love to the greengrocer’s daughter in her father’s store behind a display of fresh peaches. I was employed there. The job itself was pure monotony, but the fringe benefits—regularly screwing a busty classmate—were terrific!

I was in no particular hurry to dismount my sexy bedmate. Those roots and herbs were certainly packing a lethal punch. I was not getting flaccid, so I continued to fuck her pussy while playing with her delightful tits for another 10 or 12 minutes. There was no further semen blast forthcoming—hey, when you are 74 there are certain sexual realities you must accept—but I didn’t care. Just the fun and intimacy of making love to this woman—essentially a stranger until an hour ago—was simply marvelous.

I eventually did dismount Vicky when she insisted that she needed to head out to take care of some errands. I made a point of showing her that my penis was still in a semi-erect phase. “Thanks for this treat,” I said to her followed by a romantic kiss on the lips.

“What errands do you have to run?” I asked for no particular reason.

“I’m off to that same health food store again, Vicky said. “Mr. Garfield, the gentleman who now occupies Nancy Edgewater‘s former suite, had a visit with Dr. Mortimer the other day. Guess what the doctor advised him to buy.”

“I hope he has the same success story I had with that product,” I said sincerely. “I’m so very pleased with its positive effects, I’d be glad to give a heartfelt testimonial about its wonderful benefits.”

“Well, I checked his file,” Vicky said. “It says he’s only 70, so the stuff you’ve been taking ought to really help him, too.” She paused for a moment and added, “I guess I can volunteer to help him the very same way I helped you. He’s a handsome old devil!”

I just laughed. “You do what you have to do, Vicky. So will I. I’ve got to make amends to two lonely women in this building for my recent failures to get it up.”

“There will be more than two,” Vicky insisted. “Once I tell even two or three of the ladies here about our lovely fuck today, word will get out. You’ll be in high demand. Be prepared, Jeff! To help, I’ll order you some more herbs and roots.”