In it only for the money

I walk up to Mrs. Larsson's quaint little house on the edge of the neighborhood, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across her overgrown lawn. She's in her seventies, widowed for years, with that soft, wrinkled skin and silver hair pinned up in a loose bun that always seems one tug away from falling apart. I've been her 'fixer' for years now every damn day, her computer 'loses life,' as she puts it. But we both know it's her pussy that's aching, lonely and wet, craving the kind of attention no antivirus software can provide.

I knock on the door, and it swings open almost immediately. There she stands in her floral housecoat, the kind that clings to her heavy breasts and wide hips, her eyes lighting up like I've just handed her the keys to her inheritance. 'Oh, there you are, my good boy,' she coos, her voice thick with that grandmotherly warmth laced with something dirtier. She steps aside, letting me in, her hand brushing my arm a little too long. 'You're such a lifesaver. That blasted machine it's acting up again. Won't even turn on properly.'

I nod, playing along, following her into the living room where the ancient desktop sits on a dusty desk, humming faintly like it's mocking us both. Nothing's ever wrong with it; I've checked a dozen times. But she loves the game, and hell, so do I. She's loaded old family money, no kids, no one to leave it to and I'm more than happy to be her open-minded neighbor with benefits. Casual fucks in exchange for her smiles and those fat stacks she slips me now and then? Sign me up.

As I pretend to fiddle with the monitor, she hovers close, something musky filling the air. 'You're so handy, dear,' she murmurs, her gnarled fingers trailing down my back. Before I can even boot up the fake diagnostic, she drops to her knees right there on the worn carpet, her housecoat gaping open to reveal sagging tits spilling out, nipples hard and dark like ripe berries. 'Let me show you how grateful I am,' she says, her eyes locked on the bulge in my jeans.

She doesn't wait for permission never does. Her shaky hands unzip me, pulling out my cock, already stiffening at the sight of her eager mouth. 'Such a big, strong boy,' she whispers, wrapping her lips around the head, sucking hard like she's trying to draw the life right out of me. Her tongue swirls sloppy and wet, bobbing her head with surprising vigor for her age, cheeks hollowing as she takes me deeper. Saliva drips down her chin, soaking into the collar of her robe, and she moans around my shaft, the vibrations shooting straight to my balls.

I grip the edge of the desk, watching her work those wrinkled lips stretched wide, her false teeth mercifully out somewhere, letting her suck without scraping. She pulls back with a pop, stroking me with both hands, her grip firm despite the age spots. 'The computer's not the only thing that needs fixing,' she says with a wicked grin, then dives back in, gagging herself on my length until tears well in her eyes.

I can't hold back long with her like this. My hips buck, fucking her face gently at first, then harder as she urges me on with hungry slurps. She wants it rough sometimes, the lonely old bird, and I give it to her thrusting until I feel the build-up, then pulling out to paint her face with my cum. It splatters across her cheeks, her forehead, dripping down to her open mouth where she licks it up greedily.

But we're not done. She stands, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and shrugs off her housecoat completely. Her body is soft and full belly rounded, thighs thick and dimpled, pussy hidden under a bush of white hair that's already glistening. 'Come on, stud,' she says, bending over the desk, ass up, spreading her cheeks to show me that puckered hole and the slick folds below. 'Fix this for me.'

I step up, rubbing my still-hard cock against her entrance, teasing until she whimpers. Then I push in, slow at first, feeling her walls clench around me loose but so fucking wet, like she's been dripping since she called. I grab her hips, pounding into her with steady thrusts, the desk creaking under us. She gasps and pushes back, her tits swinging, begging for more. 'Harder, boy give it to me like you mean it.'

I do, slamming deep, my balls slapping against her as I reach around to rub her clit, that swollen nub begging for friction. She comes first, shuddering and squirting a little on my hand, her cries echoing through the empty house. I follow soon after, burying myself to the hilt and flooding her pussy with another load, pulling out to watch it leak down her thighs.

We catch our breath, her leaning on the desk, me zipping up. 'Computer seems fine now,' I say with a smirk. She laughs, pulling her robe back on. 'Must be your magic touch. See you tomorrow?'