by J 12/25/00
For the following few days I tried to think about how I could put these ideas into action. In fact, the thought of lowering myself to some of the thoughts I was having was really beginning to get my own juices flowing. Like everything else that had happened to me recently, the solution came suddenly out of the blue one sunny, yet cold afternoon in the self-service laundry.
I have to go there once a week because, like I said, we don't have a washing machine in the apartment. Almost every week, I see this old tramp in there keeping warm. He's quiet and no trouble to anyone, but right from the first time I saw him, I could see that he liked to leer at the women in there. He had never looked at me whilst I was going through my drab phase, but now that I had smartened myself up, I had felt his eyes upon me all the time. I had made up a plan in my mind. As I carried the washing the three blocks to the laundry, I was praying he would be there today.
It was quite a big self-service laundry, and surprisingly, today it was deserted. My heart sank as I went to the washers and began to read one of the month old magazines that the proprietor supplies. I turned around hopefully, as the door opened suddenly, but it was only another housewife with the weekly wash. She sat down next to me just as my cycle finished. I pulled the clothes out of the machine and into a basket, and carried them over to the dryers. As I turned into the aisle that had the machines on the right wall and a bench of seats opposite, my deflated spirits rose. There, quietly dozing at the very end was the vagrant I had hoped to see.
He woke up when he saw me and gave me a long, unashamed leer. I wasn't surprised; I had dressed especially for that reaction. It was a bitterly cold day, which explained why the tramp was sitting in the warmest part of the room, and I had worn a long overcoat. But as I slowly and deliberately walked past all the empty dryers that were furthest away from him, in order to place my clothes in the one nearest to him, I let my topcoat swing open to reveal my clothes underneath. I was wearing a tight, white, see through blouse over a white, lace, half cup bra, a very short, black mini-skirt, barely black hold-ups and black patent, high-heeled ankle strap sandals.
After placing the money in the slot, I turned and took a seat on the bench not a foot away from the old dosser. As my coat fell open, I crossed my nylon covered legs towards him. He said not a word, but I could feel his eyes burning my thighs as he brazenly stared at them. After a minute, I turned to give him a smile, but his glare never left my limbs. It gave me the chance to look at him closely. I guessed he was about sixty years' old, scrawny and dirty. His long nails were black and his clothes were tattered and stained. A year ago, if you told me I would soon be trying to seduce a piece of shit like this, I would have laughed in your face. But now, with the thought of my son watching me being abused by this down and out, I was in a state of high arousal.
As I let my skirt ride up a little, I knew that the tramp could see the bare flesh of my thighs above the hold-ups. His pants were big and baggy, but he made no effort to hide the movements of his right hand as he fondled his private parts through his pocket. Behaving like a wanton slut was so nice and naughty.
I knew what I had to do, so after about ten minutes, I got up to place my dried clothes in the black sack I had brought them in. As I emptied the dryer, I let a pair of my skimpiest panties fall to the floor and pretended not to notice. I turned to leave and hoped that my deliberate carelessness and feigned struggle with the washing bag would achieve the result I had planned. With heart in mouth, I started to walk slowly away. I had taken only three paces when I heard the tramp's voice calling to me.
'Hey, lady. You dropped these.'
I turned slowly. The vagrant was now standing, and holding the panties up to his waist as though modelling them.
'They're very nice.' he said, with a leering, almost toothless, grin.
'Thank you so much', I began, in a whimpering, girlie type voice. 'I'm so clumsy. I'm always dropping my panties.'
The double entendre was not lost upon my dirty, old admirer.
'I'll bet you are, lady', he said.
It was now or never for me, so I took courage and made him my offer.
'Look, I've got to carry this bag of washing about three blocks. It's terribly heavy. My son carried it here for me but he's gone back to the apartment that just the two of us live in. If you'd be so kind as to carry it home for me, I'm sure I could think of some way of thanking you.' I pleaded.
I couldn't have made my invitation any more explicit without actually asking him to fuck me.
'You sure this boy of yours won't be upset at you being helped by me?', he asked.
'No, not at all. In fact, he'll be pleased. And he would insist that I thank you properly.' I reassured him.
The old vagrant rubbed his unshaven chin as if in deep contemplation. I helped him reach the conclusion I wanted, by letting my overcoat open up and reveal my partly exposed breasts and nylon covered legs. I had placed the bag of clothes at my feet, and now the wizened tramp was slowly bending down to pick it up. As he did so, he took the opportunity to examine my body. When he stood upright, a good foot taller than me, he said:
'OK lady, after you.'
We walked silently back to my apartment. I knew Jason would be home by now. I was so wet already at the thought of offering myself to this piece of crud and being spied upon by my son. I entered the living room first and said hello to Jason who was sitting on the couch watching TV. I had taken off my coat in the hallway, and could see by the look on my son's face that he was excited to see the way his mother was dressed. His expression became even more obvious when he saw the tramp follow me in.
'This is my son, Jason', I said to the vagrant, who gave a slight nod of his head in my son's direction.
'Jason, this gentleman kindly offered to carry the washing home for me. I'm just going to take him into the bedroom and show him where things go.'
On saying this, I sauntered into the corridor that led to the bedrooms and the old man followed eagerly. We went into my bedroom and I told him to put the washing on the floor and to close the door. The tramp did as I instructed and turned back to face me. I had moved already to the side of the bed. I don't think I had ever been so sexually aroused as I said:
'I think I know how you would like me to repay you for your service'
The vagrant began to rub his groin as my hands went up and began to unfasten the buttons of my blouse. As I pulled it out of my skirt and let it fall off my shoulders to the floor, revealing my dainty, white half-cup bra, I heard the almost imperceptible sound of Jason's bedroom door being closed. I knew that my son was now watching me. Slowly, I unfastened the zip on the mini-skirt. After I had stepped out of it, I moved towards the old guy, now wearing just the bra, black thongs, hold-ups and heels. I stood in front of him, just about a foot away, and craned my neck to look up into his eyes. As I sensuously licked my crimson lips, he put out his filthy hands to touch my breasts. I held them off and told him there had to be some ground rules set first. I spoke loudly enough for Jason to be able to hear every word next door. I told the vagrant that this was the one and only time he would have me. I said that he had exactly one hour to do whatever he liked and then he would have to leave. As a final command, I told him that there would be no mouth to mouth kissing.
As my eyes wandered down his skinny body towards his groin, I saw the throbbing bulge enclosed within his stained pants. I reached out my left hand to fondle it.
'Oh, you're ready for this, aren't you, old man.' I said admiringly.
His whole body stiffened as I rubbed my hand along the entire length of his shaft.
'You want me to shower first, lady?' he enquired.
As I walked back to the bed and lay down, invitingly, I told him that if I'd wanted a clean man I would have chosen one. Then, looking at the bedside alarm clock, I advised him that his hour had just begun.
The old tramp lost no time in peeling off his raincoat and tattered shirt. After he'd kicked off his boots, he undid the belt that held his baggy trousers around his waist. When they fell to the floor, leaving him completely naked, I saw, at last, the body of the man who would soon be abusing me. He was skinny as a rake, and this only served to make his swollen, vertical penis look even bigger than it actually was. His back was hunched, and apart from a thick bush of red pubic hair, he had not another on his body.
He walked to the side of the bed and hovered over me. His skin was wrinkled and grimy. I put my right hand up to his prick. The old man gasped as I pulled back his foreskin. Underneath, his helmet was covered in the white cheesy remnants of previous masturbations. Under normal circumstances, I would have been disgusted at what I was about to let this piece of human garbage do to me. But, I hadn't had a real prick in me for so long, and, knowing that my son was watching his mom getting fucked by this old guy, I was just so very horny. I continued to give the tramp a couple more pulls before I looked into his eyes and told him that I wanted him to fuck me.
I shuddered as his dirt encrusted fingers first touched me around my belly. The old man's hands moved down the sides of my hips to the thinnest part of my thongs. Gripping them tightly, he snapped the material apart in two places, and tossed them onto the floor. Then he moved to the end of the bed and climbed on, in between my legs. As his hands rasped their way up my nylon covered calves and then thighs, I could see that his dick seemed to be getting even harder.
With his arms outstretched on either side of my head, the vagrant let the tip of his prick find its own way to my pussy lips. He used his hips to get it into just the right position, and then, almost to my surprise, he rammed it hard into my soaking wet honey pot. It caused me to cry out as I took the full length and girth of a real man for the first time in ages. I guessed it had been even longer since my dirty, old lover had buried his meat into a woman, because he pumped me with enthusiasm that I hadn't expected from one so old. As he lowered his face down to my breasts, he used his lips and gums to pull down my half-cups and expose both nipples completely. His rough, unshaven chin caused my skin to redden and chafe as he feverishly sucked on my two hard teats. I completely abandoned the inhibitions that any normal woman would have had as the old man tried to spear me even deeper with his manhood. But I had enough presence of mind left to remember why I was doing this in the first place. As I moaned, groaned and banged my fists on the bed in genuine enthralment at my situation, I took care to turn my head towards the hole through which I knew my son was watching me being used.
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