Legs
Joe Brewster
Copyright 2010 TransgressiveFiction
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ooOOOoo
I stopped by the coffee shop same as I always do every morning. There were a few people in line ahead of me. One of them was this lady wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket with a mini skirt and stiletto heels. She looked like something out of the 50s or 60s. She could have been in costume. Her big ratty hair was obviously a wig.
Someone started humming a tune from the movie GREASE. That got a chuckle out of a couple morons waiting in line.
Not me.
No matter how she was dressed this chick had class - and a great pair of legs.
I mean excellent. The kind you don't get from running or working out. The kind you're born with - if you're lucky enough to win the genetic lottery. She looked fabulous. Or, I guess I should say, her legs looked fabulous. I couldn't see her face from where I stood behind.
Anyway, she gave her order and that's when I really noticed. It sunk in how old she was. Her voice gave it away. She was probably my grandmother's age. I mean sixty, at least. And I just thought, 'Man that is so cool.' You know? She's got this great set of legs. She knows it. She's going to flaunt 'em. Who can blame her? I had to give her credit. Most women half her age wouldn't have the guts to go around attracting this kind of attention. Dressed like this.
I'm a positive-minded person. The kind of guy that likes to give compliments when they're due. If I see someone or something that looks great I tell a person. That's the way I am. I like to make people feel good. That's how I was raised. I don't lie. I'm not into false flattery. What would be the point? I'm not after anything. It just makes me feel good.
So while the lady with the legs was waiting for her order I gave her a compliment. I told her I loved the way she looked in that outfit and that she had great legs. Nothing to it. She smiled and said, "Thank you." Her eyes twinkled. I could see that I'd made her day. Then she took her stuff and left.
You know what was so cool? She didn't say, "You mean I have great legs for an old lady?" She knew how to take a compliment. She had class. I meant she had great legs, period, and that's how she took it.
I was feeling good about myself as I walked to the parking lot. I brought some sunshine into another person's life and it didn't cost me a thing. More people should do that, I thought to myself.
Before I reached my car another car rolled up along side me, breaking my stream of thought. A '65 Mustang convertible with the top down. Mint. Wow.
"Nice car." I said just as I realized it was 'Legs'.
"Hop in." she said.
I didn't have to be at my job interview for another hour or so, so I hopped in. Why not?
We drove around awhile, chatting about nothing in particular, listening to her satellite radio set to a Classic Oldies station.
When we had each finished our coffee she pulled into a city park where we stopped to throw out our cups. She asked if I wanted to drive.
"Sure." I said, thrilled.
"But you have to drive just like I tell you, okay?"
"Sure." I said. "I'll be careful. I'll watch the road. I'll keep both hands on the wheel."
"No, you won't." She looked hard at me. She pulled my right hand over and placed it on her amazingly smooth, amazingly firm, thigh. Nice and warm. Just under her skirt. "Keep your hand right here, where I like it."
We took off down the road.
I imagine she must have driven around like this many times in her teenage years.
I looked over at her. She was fingering herself, getting liquid. The intoxicating fragrance of her wet scent drove me wild. I could smell her pussy with the top down. Like driving through a garden of earthly delight. God, it was nice.
She reached over and smeared my top-lip, Dirty Sanchez style, with the rich goo on her fingers before pushing her whole hand, all four of her fingers, into my mouth.
She tasted so good. I didn't know women could taste that good. I didn't know women her age could even get that wet. I'm not being a smart ass. I didn't know. I was majorly surprised.
At the next red light, she jumped me. She hopped, kneeling, into my lap. She grabbed my head by the hair and jerked it back so that my face looked up at her. Then she locked on to me with her wet warm mouth.
We traded the heavy musk of her lusty flavor back and forth, swapping spit like it was some kind of life-saving maneuver. Like one of us would die if we didn't keep shoving our tongues down each others throat.
Her tongue was warm and slick and strong. Slippery. Sweet and tangy. Dirty sweet.
The car behind us honked when the light changed and I didn't move. People noticed us and stared. I didn't care.
She finally got back in her seat and we drove on.
Looking over at her I could understand how other people might think she looked ridiculous. Her wig was ratty on purpose to begin with. Now it was disheveled. And though her face really had beautiful features there was no hiding the fact of her age. She looked old but to me her attitude and overall confidence made that an asset. It accented her courage and determination. This Badass Granny was loaded for bear, sexually speaking, and a little thing like age wasn't gonna keep her from getting some.
"Pull over here." She said.
I drove down a secluded dirt road near the park and stopped beside a pond under a tree.
She reached over and turned the engine off but left the radio on and had her lips around cock before I knew what hit me.
She sucked me off like a pro. Taking me deep into her mouth and wrapping her tonsils around my shaft. DEEP.
She worked my cock in ways I'd never dreamed possible.
The entire morning had been like falling through a series of trap doors. At every point something completely unexpected happened.
I never expected to see such incredible legs on an older woman. I never expected to see her after I spoke to her in the coffee shop. I never expected to be driving a classic car. And I certainly never expected that within the hour this mature lady would be bobbing on me. But I really never would have expected that she could rock my world the way she did.
She was wonderful.
I needed to get going if I wanted to make it to the interview on time.
"Not so fast, Slick," she said. "I haven't gotten laid yet."
"Could it wait until after my interview?", I asked. It wasn't much of a job pay-wise, just a low-level temp thing, and I had no intention of blowing her off, but I really needed a job right now. Any job.
"I've got a better idea." She said. "Why don't you come on to my house and I'll do my own interview? I could use a good House-Boy."
"Really?" I was intrigued I won't lie.
"The pays good, better than McJob wages, and you'll have a place to stay. If you're qualified."
"Qualified?" I balked.
"Don't worry," She said, stroking my hair. "You meet my standards on size and personality. That's two out of three. But the third one's a bitch."
"What's that?" I gulped.
"Stamina," she said, a playful glint in her eye. "But that can always be developed over time if you're willing put in the proper training - and I think you are. You up for it?"
"Let's go."