Message-ID: <26637asstr$970575003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Original-Message-ID: <20001003053649.22200.qmail@web9908.mail.yahoo.com>
From: Gallus Long <galluslong@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Nursing Home Mischief
Date: Tue, 3 Oct 2000 08:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2000/26637>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, IceAltar
Attachment
__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Photos - 35mm Quality Prints, Now Get 15 Free!
http://photos.yahoo.com/
<1st attachment, "Nursing Home Mischief.txt" begin>
{ASSM}
Author: Gallus Long, galluslong@yahoo.com
Title: NURSING HOME MISCHIEF
(MF, Oral)
A fictional story.
Disclaimer
Not to be read:
by anyone under the age of 18
or if it violates the standards or laws of your community:
or if adult erotica offends you.
Not to be posted on any site, or changed, or used in any way without author's
permission.
NURSING HOME MISCHIEF
I have sought to analyze just which age woman I prefer, and I am at a loss
to say. The nubile frame of a bony teenager, suitably arranged, with hardly two
breasts to her name, can warm my blood and cause me to hyperventilate. Near the
other end of my spectrum are women my own age, who have a certain wisdom and
confidence about them, a settled beauty that can set even the young heart afire.
Then, I have a fascination with human beings who are inexplicably set
aflame with desire by the most unlikely of prospects. I have no idea what
chemistry is at work, or how these mixed ages and physical disparities can be so
volatile, but they can. I know a man, six-foot-six, who recently married a
woman only five-foot tall. I would love to witness that coupling, and if I
could, quiz them about their sexual attraction to each other. Then, there is
age. Little girls rub themselves against their grandpa's thigh and become
glassy eyed. Gray headed grandmothers, check and recheck the inseams of their
fifteen-year-old grandson's pants, making sure the measurement is precise before
sewing in the cuffs. It's a kick for me to see this sexually overtoned inter-
play between people who may separated by size, or shape, or decades, and I
suspect it is for many people.
Until my mother's death a year ago, she was a four-year-resident of a
nursing home, suffering from the after-traumas of a devastating stroke. She
could not speak, walk or reason, and most of the time she stared out into space.
The one thing she had not forgotten to do was to eat, though she did require a
bit of help. My being with her at mealtime was her one single link to a
brighter time when our family gathered noisily around the supper table, and both
enjoyed and annoyed each other. So every day, either at lunch time or dinner
time, you could find me in the dining room at the nursing home, visiting with
Mother while she ate. However, this story is not about my mother, as central as
she was to my life. Rather, it is about her roommate of the same advanced
vintage, Victoria.
I learned through Victoria's visiting sister four years before, that she
had never married. She came from a very large family, judging from the pictures
on the room's bulletin board, and was in her youth a fine looking woman. In
fact, the exquisite features of that earlier time still graced this old lady's
face. True, there were puffs of jowling around the mouth, and hundreds of fine
wrinkles across her face, but the beauty was still there.
Both my mother and Victoria ate in the dining room, each being able to
feed themselves, but as time and age rolled on, they lost even these basic
skills. Like Mother, Victoria was unable to put words together in a sentence.
Unlike Mother, who refused to talk, Victoria tried. She would fearlessly begin
a sentence, but hang on the first or second word, repeating it over and over
with a machine gun delivery.
"Are you hungry Victoria?"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, I want some beans, bean, bean, bean, bean, bean." and
then she would trail off into nothing.
However, there were moments when a stark ray of lucidity would appear,
only to re-dim a second or two later. It would usually occur when her sister
visited her, which was about once every two months.
"Oh honey! You're so sweet, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss."
She would hold her hands out to her sister in a plaintive, adoring way,
yearning for the warm embrace we all love. However, Victoria's expression was
transcendent. It reminded me of German newsreels from World War II, when
Hitler would ride through the streets, and the women, waving their frilly
handkerchiefs, would gaze at him longingly, almost lustfully, as he drove by
them.
After Victoria's sister ceased coming altogether, (I presume she tired of
the routine) it was the nurses and aides who received the emotional appeals from
Victoria. "Please hug me, for God's sake, hug me!" she seemed to be saying.
The aides ignored her, warning each other off, "Be careful of Victoria,
she'll bite you if you're not careful." It broke my heart to see her so forlorn
when they refused her.
Every time I would enter the dining room, I would greet her, give her a
brief hug and hear her moan, "Oh! Oh! You are so sweet." I'd look into those
doleful, longing eyes, and my heart would melt.
I told the aide, "You know, I don't think she WANTS to bite you, I think
she is just so hungry for affection, she just wants to `eat you up' so to speak,
when she does touch you." Actually, Victoria had never bit me, but she kissed
my hand like I was the king come to visit her. For better or for worse, I
started hugging the old lady when I would enter into the dining room.
Of course, I was always a little apprehensive about my hugs around my
mother. If she saw me sharing too much of that sort of thing, she'd puff up
with maternal jealousy. So, I always kissed and hugged Mom first, and then I
hugged Victoria.
Once, Victoria, Mother and I were the only people left at the dining
table, and all the aides were busy wheeling the other residents to their rooms.
Victoria kept reaching for me all through the meal, and finally exasperated, I
walked up to her chair and pulled her head to my chest, hugging her and saying,
"Good to see you're feeling so well, Victoria!"
Her old arm snaked around me and she buried her face in my chest and I
could feel her lips working, kissing me through my shirt. No one was around,
and my mother was in a blank haze, so I let Victoria linger for a moment; what
was the harm? Then her other arm came around behind me and she placed her hand
on my buttocks, squeezing, it. I should have broken away, but she truly needed
affection. Yet, I must have known, there was more astir here than her needs.
At that very moment, something perverse pulled a trigger inside of me.
"Oh honey, I love that so much," Victoria said. Her enunciation was
perfect.
"You do?" I asked cheerfully, with a little tease in my voice.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes." she repeated.
"Well, sweetheart, is there anything I can do for you?" I said, expecting
to kiss her on the cheek and leave.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she said, smiling wickedly,
clutching my butt, and looking into my eyes.
I laughed and said, "Well, I'm afraid I can't help you there, Victoria!"
Finally, I pulled away and turned back to Mother, getting her prepared to wheel
back to the room. Victoria kept reaching for me, snatching at my rear and my
hip.
"Now, Victoria, leave Mr. Rose alone," an aide suddenly said, smiling,
startling me.
I took a deep breath, calmed my voice and said, "That's OK, she just wants
a hug," I said. Then, as if it were the first hug I had given her that day, I
hugged Victoria again.
"Oh, she likes that TLC!" said the aide.
That very next week, Mother suffered another stroke, and was unable to go
to the dining room to eat. She could periodically sit up, but she lay in bed
most of the time. I had to actually spoon the food to her mouth to get
nourishment down her. For two weeks afterward, I didn't see my mother's
roommate. She had already been taken to the dining room by the time I arrived
to feed Mother in her room. Then, I would leave before the aide wheeled Victoria
back.
One night I stopped by to drop off some laundry for Mother. Victoria was
lying in her bed, babbling. I noticed how thin she was becoming, quite a
contrast to when I had last seen her. I gave her a hug and she calmed down
quickly, and then went directly to sleep.
The following week, I noticed that the aides were bringing Victoria's food
trays into the room when they brought Mother's. While I fed Mother, the aide
fed Victoria, and she ate all of her food.
"Why is she eating here in her room?" I asked.
"Actually," the aide said, "she quit eating almost altogether after your
Mom had that stroke. Now, the only way she'll eat is when you're here in the
room feeding your mother."
"Victoria!" I teased, "surely you didn't quit eating because of me!"
"Oh Honey!" and reached for me.
I went over to her wheelchair and gave her a hug. I almost didn't escape
this time.
One weekend, the aide brought the trays into the room and left Victoria's
sitting on the little rollaway table just out of her reach. I soon had Mother
completely fed, and she drifted off into a contented slumber. However, no one
had come to feed Victoria. Her sad eyes were cast down to the floor, and aside
from a few futile lunges for the food, she just sat there.
Another ten minutes passed. I became angry. Why had they just left her
there in the wheel chair? By the time they got to her, her food would be cold
and tasteless, but after a time, my temper cooled. After all, this was the
weekend, and the staff was extremely busy and shorthanded. I decided I would
help Victoria myself.
I slid the tray over to her, and sat down on her bed next her wheelchair.
Her eyes brightened immediately. She reached for me and I leaned over to let
her hug my neck. When I did, she pulled me to her face and kissed me on the
lips. I was startled when her mouth opened and her tongue licked my lips
provocatively.
"Oh Honey, I love that!" she said.
I pulled away and kissed her cheek, and said, "Well, look at you,
Victoria! What a naughty girl!" And I began to feed her.
Still no aides came, or perhaps they peeked in and saw me doing their work
for them, and quietly slipped away. At any rate, it was my job at the moment.
I had to twist my wrist away from Victoria's grip several times, but I
eventually completed the task. I stood to roll the table back, and Victoria
reached out and placed her hand on my crotch. Her bony hand trembled as she
grasped me, and her eyes were focused totally where she was touching. Her mouth
was slightly open, and her strong white teeth glistened through her lips, which
she licked hungrily.
I cannot believe how erotic that moment was. I know it must be disgusting
for some of you to contemplate, but I here confess to you, I was becoming
aroused. I did not move her hands.
"Oh, honey, I love that so much!" she said plainly and smiled up at me
with her beautiful gray eyes.
I let her play, but I looked sharply at my mother's bed, fearing that she
might awaken. Luckily she did not.
My penis was now rock hard, and Victoria buried her face in the front of
my pants, rooting with her mouth and pawing with her hand. "Oh honey, please,
please!" she pled.
I put my hand on her head and stroked it tenderly as she sought to burrow
into my pelvis. She brought her hand around behind me and pressed my bottom so
that my abdomen was tight against her face. Except for her soft murmurs and low
whimpering, she was very quiet.
I stood there thinking, what could possibly be wrong with this? She
wanted this terribly, and though I was surprised when it went this far, I was
certainly willing to let her do whatever she wanted. Was this non-consensual?
How could it be? Was I forcing myself on her? I could not see how. If she and
an old gentleman down the hall had tried to feel each other up from their
wheelchairs, would the staff object? Probably not, if they could keep it quiet.
So, what was the harm in this? This was probably the happiest she had been
since she had arrived some four years ago.
Suddenly, I snapped out of my reverie, and realized there was an open door
through which an aide or nurse could walk any second. I pulled myself away from
Victoria, and tried to push my penis down beside my thigh. I walked over to the
hallway door and stood there for a moment, looking both ways. The hall was
totally empty. Distantly, down the way and around the corner from the nurses'
station, I could hear one of the male residents bellowing out wise cracks as he
always did at dinnertime. I turned and went back to Victoria, who welcomed me
with open arms.
This time, I was more active. I stroked her face, then put my hand on her
breast and felt the soft roundness beneath the blouse, no bra. I slipped my
hand between the buttons and encountered bare flesh. I looked at her, and a
slight smile played across her face. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," she said.
I unbuttoned the blouse and bared the breast, surprisingly smooth and
supple, though it did sag. I bent and took the nipple into my mouth. "Oh honey,
honey, honey!" she crooned.
Excited, but fearful too, I pulled away and went back to the open door to
look again, still clear.
I walked back to Victoria, who was reaching for me again, her eyes full of
lust and love. I unzipped my fly, and bared my penis in front of her, pushing
my clothing back around its base to let as much protrude for her as possible.
Her old fingers encircled the penis and she stroked it, long and sweetly.
I reached down and fondled her exposed breast, and she lifted her eyes to mine
with the most intense look of longing I have ever seen. "Fuck," she said
hoarsely, and kept pumping me slowly. I was now fully conscious that I wanted
my pleasure as much as I did hers. I bent again and ran my hand up under her
dress. I knew I would encounter an adult diaper, but I was too enthralled to
care. I felt along her leg as I went, hearing her, "Yes, honey, yes," as I
moved. I felt the diaper and ran my fingers under it, pleased to find it was
dry. However, Victoria's vagina was not dry. It was modestly moist and could
have happily accommodated any man who would care to place himself there. I
wished for enough privacy to put my mouth on her, but I dared not chance it. I
felt her pressing against my fingers and I rubbed her clitoris gently and she
spread her knees as far as her stiff limbs would let her.
There was no violent spasm, but there was a wave of gentle contentment
that spread over her, and I could feel her body relax. I came back to kiss her
passionately on the lips and felt her hand behind my head. "Ohhh," she cooed,
"sweet, sweet."
I stood again, my fully extended penis before her face, and she grasped me
and pulled me to her mouth. The moist, wet lips felt absolutely unearthly on
me, and I wondered if, at her age, she had ever had oral sex before. If not, she
was certainly willing now. She smacked her lips and hummed her pleasure. I
soon realized that I would be ejaculating into her unsuspecting throat any
moment unless I pulled out. I tried to backed away, but Victoria grabbed my
pants on either side of the zipper and clutched me to her face, still sucking,
unwilling to let go.
"Victoria, I whispered, let go darling, I need to cum." Her slurps, and
smacks were increasing in volume and number, and I pulled, but I could not break
her grip. I hoped to God, she wouldn't throw up her meal, gagging on my semen.
How would I explain that to the staff? The fierce pressure was building I
recognized now I could no longer hold back. Standing, and tensed as I was, the
pleasure bolted through my thighs and buttocks and into my penis as I ejaculated
into her mouth. It was the most wickedly joyful feeling in all of my sixty
years. My eyes were raised to the ceiling in exquisite pleasure.
Then, surprisingly, I felt her head move away from my pelvis, and she
released her grip. Puzzled, I looked down and beheld Victoria's dripping mouth,
with blood running down her chin and staining her blouse and naked breast. At
that moment, I was stunned with the most agonizing pain I had ever experienced,
and the most horrific sight I have ever witnessed. The stub of my penis jetted
out gouts of dark red blood onto Victoria's naked breast. She chewed
enthusiastically on the longer severed part, rolling it around her mouth
deliciously, pushing it about with her darting tongue, holding it in with a
knotty finger. She smiled sweetly amid the semen and the blood, and garbling
her words around its now-soft mass she said, "Oh, honey, I love that!"
So, here I am now, writing this behind the bars of Jackson State Prison in
Michigan. I had my moment of pleasure, but I'm paying for it now with at least
eight years of my life and four inches of my penis. I suppose I am lucky that
several nurses were near, or I surely would have bled to death.
Here at Jacktown I keep pretty well to myself, and when there's no work to
do, I just write my stories. Fortunately, I'm too old for the young gays here
in prison (apparently the age thing works opposite with men) and I can fight off
the older ones. At night, when the rest of the guys are pounding away, thinking
of the shapely young girls outside the walls, I lay on my bunk, with my left
forearm across my eyes, my right hand ineffectually fondling my truncated penis,
and think of Victoria.
The End
<1st attachment end>
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format. The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+