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From: One Gallus <onegallus@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Halloween Mischief
Date: Tue, 31 Oct 2000 16:10:12 -0500
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<1st attachment, "Halloween Mischief.txt" begin>
{ASSM} Author: One Gallus OneGallus@yahoo.com Title: HALLOWEEN MISCHIEF
(MF, Oral)
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.
HALLOWEEN 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 fouryear-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 October, 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.
On October 31, Halloween, there was a party for the ambulatory patients
and staff up in the Dining Hall.
The aide brought the trays into the room. Anxious to get back to the
party, she 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 Halloween, and the staff was extremely busy and the residents that were
able were being entertained. 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, this Halloween I am 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 compose my little 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 gays are
active, and rest of the guys are pounding away at themselves, 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
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