The internet was to blame for my obsession. Well, blame is the wrong word, because it implies guilt or dissatisfaction, and I feel neither. It was a rainy day last March when it happened. I should have been doing my English assignment. Mum, Dad and my younger brother, Ben, had all gone to see a movie. I would have liked to have gone as well, but I had to have this homework done by tomorrow. I was working at the computer when I got bored and decided to spend some time on-line. After surfing for half an hour or so, and by pure accident, I came across a site that contained photos of people having sex. Curiosity got the better of me, and I went in.
This was the first time that I had come across this kind of a site. Of course, I knew about their existence, everybody in school did. It was just that they had never really interested me. Not until that moment that is. I was looking through some thumbnail photos when I came across a set that was described simply as ‘The dirty old man and the teen.’ I was pretty aroused already, but when I went into the site and saw the photos, my whole body started to tremble.
There were about 25 pictures placed together to make a series of this really pretty teenaged girl and an elderly man. It starts with her bringing him a drink. The old man is sitting on a couch, and as he takes the cup out of the girl’s hand, he pulls her forward to give her a peck on the cheek as a thank you type gesture. In the next frame, the old man has put the cup on a side table, and is beckoning the girl to come sit next to him, which she does. She has long blonde hair, and is wearing a short white dress with a pair of white high heeled shoes. The old man is then shown with his hand on the girl’s bare thigh. She makes it clear that this is not what she wants. But in the next picture the old man is standing above the teenager with the back of his right hand threatening to smack the girl across the face. The old man is then seen dragging the girl by her hair so that she has to kneel in front of him. He forces her to undo his trousers and take his penis into her mouth. He then rips her dress off and proceeds to have sex with her in a variety of positions. In the final three frames, the old man is holding his willy in front of the girl’s open mouth and shooting his semen onto her tongue.
I know that any teenage girls reading this will think I’m so gross, but I honestly felt so excited looking at these photos. In fact, more aroused than I had ever felt before. It made me wonder what kind of a girl would let a man who was so old do things like that to her. I mean, he wasn’t even a good-looking old guy. I wondered how they greeted each other at the photo studio. Did they shake hands formally or would they kiss? I began to wonder what it was like for this girl when the old man kissed her. Did he have false teeth? Did his breath smell? What did it feel like to have some old guy’s hands roaming all over your body, touching you everywhere that is private to a girl? It would be easy for him to get aroused; I mean what old man wouldn’t want to get his hands on a teenager, but how did she get ready for him? Did she feel dirty after he had put his smelly old willy inside her mouth and pussy? And what about all that horrible goo of his that she had to swallow? Yeeeuch!!
But as I thought of all these things, it suddenly dawned upon me that for the last ten minutes my right hand had been tucked down the front of my knickers and doing things that my friend, Cathy, had shown me last year. I managed to get it over with just before my family came back, but I kept those pictures on disc, because I knew that I’d want to see them again and again.
Fate played its hand two months later. A friend to whom we used to live next door about 10 years ago had invited mum and Dad to a wedding; her daughter was getting married. We moved to a new house about 25 miles away just after Ben was born, because our old one only had two bedrooms. Mum used to keep in touch with our old neighbours, Mr and Mrs Davies, and she and Dad would go out with them a couple of times every year.
We had all been invited to the wedding, and also to stay over at the country hotel where the evening reception was to be held. It was a beautifully hot, sunny Saturday as we drove to the small church for the ceremony. I wore a pink summer dress, a pair of white ankle socks with a turnover fringe, and black shiny sandals. Ben and I sat in the back of the car as usual, and Ben was playing with his Game Boy, as usual. Lots of guests had arrived at the church before us, and were milling around outside, as it was too nice to stay indoors, especially as the groom was still to appear. We all went over to talk to a family we used to know from our old neighbourhood. Suddenly, from behind me, I heard the booming of a man’s voice calling out my Dad’s name. We all turned in the direction of the noise, and when my parents saw who owned the foghorn, their faces beamed with delight.
‘Henry, you old reprobate’, Dad said to the man as he pumped his hand enthusiastically. ‘Jeez, we haven’t seen you since we left the old place. How are you, and how’s Mary? The man had his back to me but I heard him tell Dad that Mary, who I guessed was his wife, had died the year before, but that he was fine and glad to see his old friends. Henry kissed Mum, said she looked wonderful, which made her blush, and asked where the rest of the family where. When Mum told him we were right behind him, Henry turned around to greet Ben and I.
Henry picked up Ben and held him high up in the air. ‘So, you’re young Ben are you? You’re a fine big boy, aren’t you?’ Ben, who was a little shy of the stranger, just nodded his head slightly. Henry put my brother back on his feet, and he and my folks had a good laugh. And then Henry turned to me. I craned my neck to look up at him; I’m only four feet eleven and Henry was taller than Dad, and Dad is over six feet. ‘And this beautiful young lady, must be the lovely Kim.’ Now it was my turn to blush.
I offered Henry my hand and said a whispered hello. As he took my hand into his large palm, Henry remarked that I had been just five when he had last seen me and hadn’t I grown into a beauty just like my mother. It was only when he said that he thought he deserved a kiss from me that I realised I had become aroused by Henry’s likeness to the old man in the sexy photo series. Both were tall and fat, both wore glasses that made their eyes look huge, both were bald except for a little fuzzy grey hair at the side of their heads, and both had red faces. As Henry’s face approached my cheek, the hand that wasn’t holding mine came to rest on my shoulder, which was bare apart from the thin straps that held up my pretty, pink summer dress. When I felt his hot, sweaty hand on my skin, and his hot, moist lips on my face, I almost swooned. I sensed that he realised this as well, because he was brave enough to run his tongue over my cheek just before he pulled away. As Henry continued talking to Mum and Dad, both of his hands clasped the one I had offered to him a minute ago. I made no attempt to move it away, and he made it look so natural that it didn’t seem anything other than an old man’s friendly gesture.
Dad asked Henry if he’d like to join us in church, as he had come on his own, and he said he would be delighted. He finally let go of my hand as he walked into the church ahead of Ben and I, with Mum and Dad. At the end of the pew, Henry played the gentleman and let Mum and Dad in first. Then he suggested Ben go in next so that he could be close to Mum, before he ushered himself in at the end of the pew, next to me.
All kinds of thoughts were running through my mind. I was sure that Henry thought I was attractive, and I was also sure that he had been flirting with me. I had heard him tell Dad that he had just turned 67, and my wonderings of what it would be like with a man so much older than me began to grow. I started to think that if I was to flirt with him, then I could stop it if I didn’t want it to go on, and besides, it might all be in my imagination. I mean, he was a pensioner! As we all bent down to say the first prayer, I noticed that Henry’s left hand was by his side. Without anyone noticing, I gently slipped my hand into his palm. His hand was damp with sweat as I played with his fingers. Neither one of us looked at the other, but we both let go as we got back on our seats. During the following three prayers, our hands followed the same pattern. I was becoming very, very excited at the thought of how wicked I was being, and what a tease I was.
Soon, the service was over, and the congregation was filing out after the bride and groom, back into the sun outside. In the rush to get photographs taken, I got separated not only from my family, but also from Henry. I stood at the back of the crowd in the pretty little church, and saw Dad at the front, taking shots of the happy couple as Mum stopped Ben from getting into trouble. I looked around for Henry but couldn’t see him anywhere. Then, two minutes later, I felt a pair of strong hands holding my bare arms. As I turned around and saw Henry, I almost fainted with excitement. He had come looking for me. Soon, his hands were moving gently up and down my arms. Part of me wanted to cringe, but the greater part of me was excited beyond description at the thought of being touched by such an elderly man. Slowly, Henry bent his head down to my ear: ‘The bride’s very pretty,’ he remarked. I nodded my agreement, hardly able to breathe. ‘Not as pretty as you, though.’ And as he pulled himself upright again, his left hand moved up to my shoulder. Nobody was looking in our direction, but it didn’t really matter, because he made it look like an accident. Only he and I knew that the strap that fell off my shoulder was as a result of Henry’s sleight of hand. I felt the power that this old man still had as he fondled my naked skin, and pulled me slightly back towards him. Suddenly, I was aware of something hard sticking into the small of my back. I knew what it was. I knew that this old man wanted me, badly.
It was just as he was beginning to rock me against his hardening, that all of the photographs seemed to have been taken, and my family were walking slowly towards us. Henry’s hands were like a magicians, in that he had pulled my strap back into place, and released his hold on me almost before I could think. As Dad got near, he asked Henry if he’d like a lift to the hotel, to which Henry said he would be very grateful. Mum said that Henry could get in the front of the car with Dad, but Henry suggested that he get in the back with Ben and I, so that Mum’s dress wouldn’t be squashed. Mum thought it was very kind of him. Had she known his real reason, I don’t think she would have approved.
Ben got into the back first, then Henry jumped in ahead of me. He said he was helping me into the car as he put his left hand around my shoulder, but his real motive was to help himself to a feel. It was about 5 miles to the hotel, and even before we drove out of the church car park, Henry’s hand was playing with my long, auburn hair. Mum and Dad could not see what he was doing to me from their position, but the tip of his thumb was poking at my back and drifting below the top of my dress. I think he was trying to see if I was wearing a bra or a slip. After a minute or so, he knew as I did, that I wasn’t. Satisfied with this, Henry’s hand then went down my back, and around to my left side. As he caressed my waist, I realised he was trying to trace the outline of my knickers, to see what type they were. Presumably, he must have felt all he wanted to, because his hand than travelled out of everyone’s sight, onto my thigh. Slowly his fingers moved along my leg. Neither of us said anything, we just kept on looking ahead at the road. Half way down my thigh, where my hem was, I felt the first of his fat, damp fingers on my bare skin. When Henry realised that his hand was now on my naked leg, he coughed as if to cover up his own excitement. His finger moved in small circles on the side of my bare thigh. I had never felt it before, but I had the feeling that I wanted to pee, even though I didn’t. I had to squirm my legs together just to ease the feeling. I briefly looked down to see that Henry’s other hand was on his groin, and that he was obviously trying to hide his own arousal.
Just when I thought that I could go on no longer without touching myself for relief, Dad pulled the car into the hotel car park. It was a big hotel in acres of its own gardens and fields, and it looked wonderful. By the time we had come to a stop, Henry’s left hand was back in his lap. I flattened my dress as I got out, just in case he had raised the hem and it attracted Mum’s concern. But there was nothing to worry about, Mum and Dad were already talking to friends. When Henry struggled to remove his great bulk from the back of the car, he came over to me. He was very calm and matter-of-fact as he asked me whether I would like it if he could arrange for himself to be sat next to me at the wedding banquet. Although extremely excited myself, I too remained calm, and just nodded slightly to indicate my approval.
Henry was as good as his word, and somehow managed to change the seating plan so that he was right beside me throughout the meal. Trouble was that Mum, Dad and Ben were so close that nothing could pass between us. I was getting quite frustrated by now, because the reality of knowing that this old man wanted to have me was finally sinking in. I had already had to go to the bathroom twice, because I was so wet down there I thought I had peed myself.
When it came time to cut the cake, Mum and Dad went down to the front of the restaurant to take some pictures. Ben was too wrapped up in his game to notice as Henry leaned over towards me.
‘What’ll your folks do before this evenings function?’ he asked, quietly.
‘I expect that they’ll put Ben and I in our room, and have a little sleep themselves.’ I replied.
Henry visibly took a deep breath and glanced downwards. My gaze followed his and I saw his old, mottled right hand go under the tablecloth and onto my left knee.
‘Do you think you can get out and come to my room for an hour or so?’ he asked, with a definite waver in his voice. I realised that he was taking a big chance by coming flat out and asking me. I looked up at him and demurely nodded my assent. He licked his lips as though examining a juicy steak, and told me his room number.
Just as I had thought, at about four o’clock, Mum said that she and Dad were going to lie down for a few hours and suggested that Ben and I do the same. I took my brother to our room and told him to undress for bed. I can’t explain how sexy and excited I felt. I also felt sluttish and cheap, but that only made me want to go to Henry’s room even more. Ben seemed to take forever to drop off, and I secretly cursed him because he normally sleeps about a million hours a day. At about four-thirty, after Ben hadn’t moved for around five minutes, I gently called out his name. There was no answer. He was fast asleep.
I went quietly to the door and opened it very gently. I tiptoed out into the corridor and closed the bedroom door behind me. I walked slowly to the stairwell. I was terribly afraid that I would bump into someone who knew me. But except for some voices drifting up from the bar, it was deathly still. I climbed up the two flights of stairs to the fourth floor, and gingerly made my way to Henry’s room. I could still turn back if I wanted. I mean, I had been with a boy of my own age and we had gone all the way. He was clean and lean and good, and here was I about to give myself over to a dirty, old, fat man.
But I knew that I wouldn’t turn back; I was almost having to touch myself right there in the corridor because my lust was so bad. I walked up to Henry’s door and looked up at the number. Yes, it was the right room, I was sure of that. Slowly, I brought my right fist up to head height, and knocked against the wood, ever so quietly. Part of me wanted to say that he hadn’t heard me, I had done my part but he hadn’t been in. But if that part had had any chance of winning the battle for my conscience, it lost as the door slowly opened.
My head was already raised to the top of the door in expectance of where Henry’s head should be. He peeked around the door lower than I had expected.
‘Quickly’, he ordered, ‘come in, quickly, quickly.’
As I entered his lair, Henry grabbed my arm roughly, and told me to go sit on the couch. As I walked over to it, I turned around to see him glancing both ways along the corridor to satisfy himself that nobody had seen me come in. Henry was wearing the bathrobe that the hotel supplies. As he turned around to face me, after locking the door, I could see that it was barely large enough to wrap around his rotund waist. A mass of tangled grey hair matted his chest, and his face seemed redder than it had been before.
He walked slowly over towards the couch that I was sitting on. I couldn’t help but think of the pornographic picture series that had gotten me excited in the first place. As he came close, I could smell that old man musk on him, the one that all old men seem to have. Part of me cringed as he sat down beside me and began to rub my bare arm with the back of his hand. There was no turning back now. I would have to let him do whatever he wanted.
‘You know why I asked you here, don’t you?’ He hissed.
I fixed my eyes on his, and just nodded.
‘Good. Now, let’s see what you can do to please me.’
With that, his hand left my arm, and moved towards the six buttons that held the front of my dress together. His other hand came to join the first and I watched, mesmerised, as his fat fingers tried to undo my top button. It was like I was watching these things happening to somebody else, in slow motion. At last he got it undone, and his hands set off for the next one down. He was fumbling badly at the third button, and I could tell that if my parents weren’t in the same hotel, he would have just ripped my dress completely off. As it happened, he did lose patience, but instead of violence, Henry instructed me to undo the rest myself.
I only just managed to get the final button unfastened before Henry flung open my dress, exposing by chest and panties to his lustful gaze.
Henry whispered ‘Oh, my god.’ As his greedy hands came onto the skin of my belly, travelling upwards.
‘So soft, so pure.’ He said to himself.
When the palm of his right hand began to rub across my nipple, I arched back involuntarily, thrusting my body out closer to him. Pleased with my response, the old man began to tweak my teat between his thumb and forefinger. I was breathing hard already with the sensation of his hand on my naked body, but that was intensified tenfold as I saw Henry’s head move down to my breasts. As his tongue first flicked the very tip of my nipple, I cried out in pleasure. I looked down to see the top of his old, bald head moving from side to side as he chewed on my protrusions.
I took hold of his ears because I didn’t want him to stop. If he just carried on a little longer I knew I would be having another of those intense shuddering feelings. But almost as if the old man sensed my pleasure and wanted me to wait longer for that glorious moment, he suddenly pulled his mouth from my tiny boobs and leered up at me with those magnified, bespectacled eyes.
‘Oh, you like that, don’t you sweetness?’ he grinned.
‘Please do it some more.’ I begged him.
The old man ignored my pathetic pleadings. But as I glanced down, I saw his mangled old right hand moving down over my belly, towards my panty waistband. His tongue flicked out of his drooling mouth as his little finger found its way under the elastic. Now I wanted him to touch me there. I was burning up. Slowly, another fat finger crawled beneath the thin material that separated my most secret place from Henry’s view. Then, as his third finger crept into my knickers, I felt the tip of his little digit brushing the top of my slit. Oh, the feeling was so exquisite. My head lolled from side-to-side and my mouth filled up with saliva as he inserted first one, and then two, of his fingers into my hole. Henry remarked how wet I was; ‘gushing’ was the word he used. As he fingered me with greater speed, my own breathing became faster and noisier. My eyes were closed as this heavenly delirium descended over me, so I didn’t notice Henry’s face move to my ear. As his tongue rasped the side of my face, I heard him whisper to me:
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