Message-ID: <1910eli$9707051119@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/1910.txt> From: heminway@epix.net (Hawk Richards) Subject: New Story: The Gray Hair Society (M/F) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <33bde0e0.98536123@newsserver.epix.net> Standard Disclaimer: Don't read if under 18 years of age. Don't read if sexually explicit material is not your cup of tea. E-mail or Post your reaction or critique. Flames will be ignored. Enjoy! Contact information: Hawk Richards (heminway@epix.net) Note: I enjoy hearing what you think. Comments are very welcome! You may not sell this story... *************************************************************** Note: I wrote this as a companion piece to "When the Angel Smiles" I figured, "Why can't an old lady have dirty thoughts too?" Hope you like it. Enjoy The Gray Hair Society By Hawk Richards Heminway@epix.net Her blue gray frock of hair was getting sparser. While her eyes still kept the youthful glow of a young dancer, her body sagged from many years of life. Old Betty sat perched on her bench in the park by the Library eating her lunch in complete silence. The kind of silence that let only the sweet sounds of spring in and the many voices of humanity at bay. She sat there letting the drone of civilization fade away until nothing, but the cheery chirps of the birds above calmed her. She daintily tossed breadcrumbs to the pigeons. She sat there until boredom beckoned her to join mankind once more. She got her stuff together. She picked up her purse. It was more like a satchel and slung over it over her shoulder. It was her granny disguise, as she liked to call it. The bag held in it everything, but the kitchen sink. If anyone asked, "Why such a heavy purse?" She would politely say, "It keeps me in shape!" She was off to visit with the rest of the Gray Hair Society,a society of elders, that frequent park benches and malls. In the distance, there were two young lovers embracing. For a moment, she missed the achingly sweet caress of her long lost husband, Willie. She became a widow ten years ago. Her nipples hardened, as she remembered his sturdy grasp. His strong tanned face haunted her and she missed the companionship. There was nothing else that could come close to the love she felt for her dead husband. No amount of boring bridge games, bingo, or time with her friends could keep him out of her mind. Not even the comfort of life replenishing carrot cake would suffice. The young couple had gotten really into their rendezvous. Their embrace got bolder. Memories haunted the old woman. She was able to see the golden hair of the young man slide his arm underneath the young woman's blouse. With ease, he unhooked her bra. The young woman free of all thought, but passion, threw her head back as the young man quickly massaged her soft breasts. The old woman quivered in voyeuristic curiosity as the two lovebirds fell back onto the floral design beach blanket. The young couple, hidden from sight by the many trees, bushes and plants, never suspected to be viewed by an elderly old woman eating her lunch in the park. Their minds were on one thing and one thing only, sexual fulfillment. Her skirt became bunched up on her abdomen as the young man pulled aside the thin wisp of panty covering. He seemed to devour her cunt with his mouth. In ecstasy, the young woman suppressed a moan. Her face contorted into an obscene grimace of pleasure. The strength of her orgasm was evident in her facial expression. The man eager for his own pleasure shucked his pants and began to insert his manhood into her. His buttocks glistened in the sun, as they bucked slowly up and down. The song was almost over. The chorus of nature around them began to chirp in harmony of the pure beauty of sex. The crescendo peaked and a loud moan, unsuppressed, bellowed the final note. She got a hold of herself and walked towards the Bus stop. The wetness between her legs did nothing but remind her of the nights and days of her past marital bliss. Her pulse, heavy with excitement, raced. She needed love. She boarded the greyhound bus, hustling to the back. She was in luck there was a prime choice of seats today. She used to like the bus. There was nothing like checking out the wonderfully interesting patrons. Her people watching prowess was instilled into her by her late husband, who had been a talented writer. He used to be able to pick a person from a crowd and make a character sketch just by observing their behavior. He was talented like that. In fact, his penchant for this kind of fun was most arousing. His stories sometimes got a bit risqué. She would never admit it, but she always loved his dirty little mind. Even in his later years, he was a dirty old man. He would be the first one to speak out against the myth that after a certain age those feelings and actions stopped. In fact, her retirement years were filled with the most wonderful times. She sat back against the cold, slime-green bus seat and pondered her next move. She was heading home. There were still three more stops until she got off. On the first stop, another member of the gray hair society boarded. It was Myrtle. She wondered if Myrtle was ever young. Her named was a perfect granny name, the kind of name that was synonymous with cookies and milk, large print, and denture adhesive. She wondered, if she too dreamt of slipping out of her skin and flying through the night, free. She wondered if she felt like a prisoner in her old saggy hide. The next stop a young man entered. Oh, how he looked like Willie in his prime. Tall, tan and sexy, he walked with an air of self-confidence. Even his spectacles looked like Will's. They could not keep the fire from glaring through. Blue eyes. Deep, blue eyes looked at her with a mischievous grin. He sauntered to the back of the bus. He sat down on the seat next to her. His pearly teeth gleamed at her as he smiled a "Hello." She nodded in acknowledgment. She had met Willie on a bus. He leaned close to her and said, "See the man in the suit?" She looked over at a man dressed up in a suit coat and tie and said, "Yes, Why?" "He's a spy. You can tell by the way that he is carrying his suitcase. Do you see it?" "I am sorry?" She replied. "You can tell a lot by what a person does. All you have to do is watch them closely." He took her hand into his, as a sudden light flashed before her eyes. A tunnel of the purest white light she had ever seen opened. She looked at Willie and smiled. Together they walked into the warm embrace of heaven. The end? -- Hawk Richards Heminway@epix.net "In the virgin womb of the imagination the word was made flesh."--James Joyce -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /