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From: Bud Red <redbud@inbox.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Angelus - by Redbud
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Date: Fri, 26 Jun 2009 01:10:02 -0400
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               Angelus - by Redbud

"Who are -you-?"

   "Angie," answered the young woman.

   "Yes," the old man, in bed, returned his helpless gaze to the ceiling,
"but why are you here?"

   "I'm a visiting nurse."

   With the effort of an old bedridden man, Morris Morris lifted his head
from the pillow.  "Visiting nurse?" he muttered.  "You're just a teenager.
Don't look a day older.  How could you be a nurse?"

   "You know," Angie smiled, "people always say that about me."

   "That you look so young?"

   "I guess they just expect me to look older."

   The old man watched the young woman as she inspected his pillbox.  She
was wearing a short jean skirt and sleeveless button down top.  Her lips
were narrow but youthfully rounded.  She bent over the table to order the
pills.  "Saturday, Sunday, Monday..." she muttered to herself.  She glanced
back at Morris.  The old man quickly turned away.  She smiled, such a warm
and kind smile that Morris was flustered.

   "It's OK," she said, softly, "you can look."

   Morris stared at the ceiling.  "You're not my visiting nurse.  You don't
dress like a visiting nurse.  I would prefer it if you would leave."

   "Candy's sick, hon," she answered.  "I'm filling in."

   "I'm sorry."

   "Oh, don't be sorry, hon," the young woman smiled.  She walked to
Morris's bedside.  "I'm used to it."

   "No," Morris answered.  "I don't mean that.  I mean..."

   "I know what you mean," Angie answered.  "It's perfectly normal." Then
she reached under the bed.  "It's a good thing I stopped by," she smiled,
pulling out the bed pan.

   She turned and Morris watched her cross the room to the bathroom.  She
was beautiful.  She was just a girl, but she was lovely.  She was slender
as a willow, and graceful.  Her straight brown hair bobbed at her
shoulders. He couldn't see her breasts.  He heard the toilet flush and
watched her return.  Her breasts were young and firm - he though he could
see her nipples through the thin gauze of her top..  He suddenly returned
his gaze to the ceiling when she smiled at him.  "You make me
uncomfortable," he announced.

   "Don't be," she smiled and slipped the bed pan back in place.  "I'm here
to make you comfortable." She pulled back the white sheets that covered
him. He tried to stop her but his arthritic hands were too slow, too stiff.
"Oh my," she said.  "I'll clean you right up."

   She turned back to the bathroom.  He watched her.  He watched her move:
so graceful, so easily.  She returned with a damp cloth.  When she bent
over him, he could see her nipple under her shirt.  "Oh my," she said.

   He glanced downward.  He was hard!  His penis stood straight from his
crotch, tall and swollen.

   Her eyes met his.  "You're crying," she said.

   "I'm so ashamed." His voice shook.

   "Why?" she asked.

   "Because I'm a 93 year old man who can't wipe his own ass!" he shouted.
His voice cracked.

   "You're beautiful," she returned.

   "Oh...  Jesus Christ, I'm not beautiful," he spit.  "What man wants to
be told he's beautiful?  Just wipe my ass and go!"

   "I can help you..."

   "You can't help me," he interrupted.

   "I'll go," the young woman sighed.

   Morris grabbed her wrist, hard, his breath shaking.

   Silence.

   "Is the door closed?"

   "Yes," she answered.

   "I...  I'm ashamed."

   "Don't be."

   "How can you even look at me?"

   She smiled.

   "How old are you?  Really?"

   "Older than you think," she answered.

   Another silence.  Morris took a deep breath.  "You know...  people say
that young people think they're immortal.  Well...  everybody thinks they're
immortal.  When you're 16 you think you'll be 16 forever.  When you're 32
you think you'll be 32 forever.  And hon, when you're 65, you think you'll
be 65 forever.  It never changes.  Nobody thinks they'll end up like this.
But they all do.  Every last one.  It's like God or something, maybe just
an accident of chemistry puts you in the world and you're just falling,
headlong, falling.  And sometimes if you don't look down you can trick
yourself into thinking the ground's not coming.  But it is and every day,
every hour, every god damn minute you're getting clos..." He groaned and
closed his eyes.

   Her hand moved gently up the length of his cock, then down, slowly,
gently, stretching his foreskin pleasurably, swelling the bulb of his cock.
"Oh, dear God," he groaned.  "That feels good.  I..." He swallowed.  "I
haven't felt that in years.  I didn't know it was possible, not since the
diabetes."

   "Are you feeling better?"

   "Oh God, yes," he groaned.  "I just...  you...  you look so much like my
wife when she was young."

   "Is she..."

   "She passed away years ago..." he said.  "I haven't been with a woman
since.  I...  what woman would be interested in me?" He groaned when she
pulled down on his cock, hard.  "A man takes pleasure in women.  It doesn't
have to be sex.  But a man likes to know a woman notices him.  Women are
such beautiful creatures.  Dear God, when I was a soldier, sometimes I made
love every night.  Every night was a different woman.  I had two women. 
Two?  Oh hell, who cares now.  I had three women, Angie.  Me.  I could go
all night.  Life, you know?  I don't regret a bit of it.  I was just
living. I was enjoying life.  I never hurt anyone.  We were -all- enjoying
life.  Nobody was ever hurting anyone else.  We were just having fun, but
there's always somebody trying to tell you it's wrong.  Don't ever let
anyone tell you that you can't enjoy life.  Just don't hurt anyone, then
it's nobody's business what you do..."

   He arched, the pleasure building as she continued to stroke him. 
"Ummm...."

   "That's how I lived my life.  I never let anything get in my way.  But
this..." He paused.  "I'm sick of this.  I'm sick of this!" He grunted out
loud.  A small spurt of semen slicked the young woman's hand and pooled at
the base of his cock.  But he hadn't cum.  "Jesus," he panted.  "I haven't
felt that in years.  You're a witch.  You know, when I was 13, all I had to
do was say the word "girl" and I had a brick in my pants.  When you walked
in here.  When I watched you, it was like that..." He groaned again.

   "It's normal," Angie answered.  "Your body knows what it needs."

   He watched her, lifting his head from the pillow as she lowered her head
over his cock, and licked the cum from the round nub of his cock.  He
groaned again, loudly.  He pushed his pelvis toward.  She was so beautiful.
He watched her lips, her perfect young lips, close around the end of his
cock.  She was sucking him.

   "You know," he groaned.  "My wife would never...  uhh...  do that.  The
most risque thing she ever...  ever did was get a tattoo...  She was
drunk..." He paused to watch her head move up and down.  Her eyes were
closed.  He knew he would cum soon.  "She was drunk...  and she went to a
tattoo parlor.  She just wanted an angel on the small of her back.  Angela
Morris they were supposed to write; then a tattoo of an angel...  But she
was drunk and..." He laughed despite himself, despite the pleasure
threatening to pulse in his groin.  "They must have misunderstood her or
maybe she was too drunk to talk.  But they spelled her name wrong.  What
could she do?  In those days you couldn't remove a tattoo..."

   The young woman lifted her head.  He groaned.  The head of his cock
glistened.

   "What was her name?"

   "Angela."

   The young woman smiled.  "You must have really loved her."

   "I did."

   Then the girl leaned forward, and they kissed.  Her lips were smooth and
moist.  He couldn't return her kiss.

   "It's OK," she said.  "You're huge.  You're a big man."

   "I..." He faltered.  "Why are you doing this?  Do you run home and tell
all your girlie friends about this?" He began to shake.  "What are you? 
What kind of a little tramp...  what are you doing?"

   She lifted the bottom of her skirt above her knees and put one knee on
the mattress, then straddled him, letting her skirt fall.  She put a finger
on his lips.  She waited, gazing at him.

   Silence.

   "I'm sorry..." he finally said, quietly.  "Please..."

   She took his hands, threaded his fingers with her own, and slowly
lowered herself.  He couldn't see but he felt the lips of her sex pressed
against the bulb of his cock, then give way.  She gasped, loudly, but
continued to lower herself.  Her mouth opened and she glanced downward as
more of him pushed upward inside her, opening her, filling her.  Then she
gazed at him, brows knitted as the lips of her opening stretched around
the base of his cock, the end of him somewhere in her slender waist.

   "It's huge," she gasped, breathing unsteadily.

   "Fuck it," he said, his own breath faltering.

   She smiled, a broad smile.

   "Go ahead," he growled.  "Ride it.  Fuck it."

   And she did.  She began moving up and down, never taking her eyes from
his.  She exhaled with every deep impalement, her breath in time with her
thrusts.  "This is a baby maker," she gasped.  "I can feel it deep...  I
can't think."

   "You know..." he groaned.  "I think I made love six times with my wife.
We had six children.  After...  after the sixth, she lost interest.  She
didn't want sex any more.  None of it.  And you know..." He paused, gasping
with pleasure.  To feel a woman again!  Like velvet!  So soft!  The warmth!
Her grace!  The heat of her around his penis!  "You know...  that was hard.
But I loved her...  I never cheated on her.  Not once.  Me!  Me of all men.
I never cheated on her..."

   "You...  you must have..." She gasped.  "Loved her very much."

   "I did."

   The young woman leaned forward as she continued to slide up and down the
length of him, and she licked the moisture from his eyes.  Then she sat
back up and brought his hands to her breasts.  She helped him to unbutton
her top.  His stiff and swollen joints moved awkwardly.  Button by button
her top opened and slipped to her sides.  She was beautiful and slender. 
Her nipples were swollen and he thought he could almost see his own girth
in her flat belly, above the waistband of her skirt.

   The bed whined.  His hand had moved down to the controls.  The top of
the mattress slowly lifted him up.  The young woman smiled and lowered her
breasts to his mouth.  He sucked and felt a small spasm.  Wetness oozed
from their joining.  The pleasure of her almost overwhelmed him.

   "Yes," she said.

   Morris leaned his head back into the pillow and she straightened again.
"Turn around," he said "And lift your skirt, I want to see your ass."

   She smiled again, the smile that made his cock ache.  She lifted one
knee, then the other, turned and never let his cock escape from her soft
embrace.  Tight.  She glanced back at him and lifted her skirt.  Now he
could see.  Her ass was beautiful.

   "Flawless," he groaned as he watched her slide up and down the length of
him.  Now he could see the lips of her sex stretched tightly round the
stem. He was glistening with her wetness and some of his own cum.  It had
been so long.

   Her hips were so smooth.  Her skin was so smooth.  Her muscles were
firm. Young.  He groaned aloud.  "Are you on the pill?" he asked.

   "Do I need to be?"

   "Oh yes," he growled.

   "I'm ready," she answered and she arched her back and opened her legs,
still sliding up and down, slowly, deeply, pressing against him when she
plunged (the whole of him inside her) rising until just the kiss of her
lips closed at the tip of his cock, then opened again as she plunged.  She
exhaled.  He groaned.  He wanted to see more.

   He reached, grasped her top at the shoulders.  Clumsily, but he grasped
them.  She glanced back at him, gazing at him.  He lowered her top, drunk
with the sinuous indentation of her spine, the smooth muscles above and
below her shoulder blades.  The top fell to her waist - so narrow.  Her
eyes fluttered.  "Are you going to come?" she whispered.

   He pulled the top down.  "Oh dear God!" His voice cracked.

   "Yes," she said.

   He gazed at the tattoo.  Angelus Mortis.  And there, the angel holding a
scythe.  "It's you..."

   "It's time," she said.

   "You made me feel like a man again," he whispered.

   "You always were."

   "I missed you so much."

   "Let go."

   He shouted.  And he did.


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