Early in the summer of 2019, my mother required surgery to repair a torn ligament in her right knee. She had been tending to her vegetable garden when she somehow got her feet tangled and fell to the ground. It seemed harmless enough at first, but when her knee didn’t feel better after a couple of weeks, she was forced to visit her doctor.

The operation threatened to limit her mobility for a good part of the summer, which didn’t sit very well with her. In addition, somebody would have to take over her Meals on Wheels delivery route. I, somewhat reluctantly, volunteered for that job. The expectation was that Mom would be sufficiently recovered to take the route back in six weeks.

My name is Alana. At the time of this story, I would have been twenty-four years old. I live in a small, old house that is located just down the road from my parent’s home. We are located in a very sparsely populated area in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

I was working part-time as a waitress in a local restaurant when this incident occurred. My regular shift was anywhere between early afternoon through closing. Since the Meals on Wheels, lunch pickup was at 11:00 am, I had plenty of time to run the route before my scheduled shift.

Because the delivery locations were quite spread out in the country, there were only eight drop-offs to be made. They were all roughly ten minutes apart on average, and they were in an area closely surrounding my house. It took a bit more than two hours in total to run the route each day.

It wasn’t a very difficult process. I already knew where all of the locations that I would be delivering to. All that I had to do was knock on the door, say a brief “hello” to the recipient, make sure that they were doing alright, and drop off the container of food.

Most of the people were pretty nice, but a couple were cranky. A few of the guys were “dirty old men,” particularly those that either lived alone or were out of earshot of their wives.

The most chronic offender was Mr. Tompkins. He lived alone, and he was both cranky and a “dirty old man.” His comments were getting increasingly direct and sometimes vulgar with each visit. While I didn’t appreciate some of the things that he said about me, I was no stranger to such comments. After all, I was a young, fit, blonde-haired woman who also worked as a waitress.

I had been delivering lunches for approximately two weeks when things took a sudden turn. As I was dropping off Mr. Tompkins’ lunch, he was even more vocal than usual. He kept referring to me as a “slut,” which was not uncommon. In addition, he kept asking me to show him my tits. It was then that I realized that my apparel had been getting increasingly suggestive. I think that I had been enjoying the attention that I was getting from the seniors, and it prompted me to subconsciously “show off” more and more.

On that day, I was wearing neon green, short shorts with a black thong underneath that was somewhat visible through the shorts. I also wore a fairly snug, white T-shirt without a bra underneath. In my defense, it was also the middle of summer, and the air conditioning was broken in my old SUV.

After about the fifth time that he asked to see my tits, I defiantly lifted up my shirt for a few seconds and barked, “There they are! Now shut the hell up about it!”

The old bastard smiled smugly as he critiqued, “They aren’t much more than nubs. Maybe they will grow out a little bit when you have a couple of babies.”

I was shocked. That crotchety, old sonofabitch should have been tripping over his tongue. Even though I am only a b-cup, they must have been the nicest breasts that he had seen in person in fifty years.

I stormed into the old man’s bedroom to drop off his lunch. He had several flimsy little stands around his house that my mother said were called TV trays. On this particular day, he wanted his lunch dropped off on the tray in his bedroom.

I was still stewing over his earlier comments. Even though I am proud of my body overall, I have always gotten criticized by men about the size of my breasts or that my face isn’t pretty enough. I know that it shouldn’t have bothered me, but something about his comment struck a nerve with me. I was determined to get the old man riled up.

Displaying even poorer judgment, I pulled my shorts down to my knees and bent over the edge of the bed. I spread my legs wide enough to expose my pussy as I waited for the slow-walking, old man to arrive.

The shuffling of his feet finally stopped and I could hear him make several sighs behind me. As I turned around, I found him standing in the doorway with his cock sticking out from his pajama pants. Mr. Tompkins was always clean-shaven and bathed, but he usually wore some sort of pajamas.

I stumbled to my feet as I tried to pull up my shorts. He, however, was in no hurry to cover up. I was surprised that his cock was mostly erect. Apparently, he wasn’t one of those elderly men that required a pill. His cock was actually somewhat impressive. It was probably around seven inches long, but more noticeably, it was quite thick. Unfortunately, there was also an abundance of white pubic hair.

Mr. Tompkins made a groan that reminded me of that guy from the movie Sling Blade, then he challenged, “Why don’t you pull those panties down for me and kneel down one more time? I’d like to get another look at that cunt.”

“Ugh!” I thought to myself, “What a crude, disgusting pig!”

Still, in this game of chicken that we were playing, I was not going to be the first to swerve away. I stared at him defiantly as I pulled my shorts back down. Then I turned my back and leaned over the edge of the bed. I was screaming inside of my own head to stop, but my stubbornness had taken over. It was then that I realized that our little game of “cat and mouse” had somehow got me quite aroused.

As he slowly creaked across the room, I awaited face-down on the bed. Then I felt a hand press down hard against my lower back. I instantly knew what was going to happen at any second. Suddenly, I finally realized how foolish I had been to allow this entire scenario to continue. I strongly considered calling the encounter off entirely.

Just then, I felt his cock rub against me briefly before he drove it all of the way inside of me. It was a strange feeling. His cock was just firm enough to hold its form, but it was quite spongy. Despite its girth, it seemed to conform enough to be less stressful. Still, it did take my breath away for a moment.

“You’ve got a tight, little cunt for a whore!” the old man barked.

“Jesus Christ!” I thought, “Does this guy have to ruin everything?”

Mr. Tompkins continued to pump away in slow, firm strokes. He had both hands on my hips in either an effort to hold me down or hold himself up. Somehow, despite how much he disgusted me, it actually wasn’t bad.

Before I knew it, I could feel myself begin to tremble. I didn’t think anything of it at first, but the intensity was building slowly. As the old man plodded along, every stroke got just a little bit heightened. I was almost there by the time I realized that I going to cum. I tried to hide it as much as I could because I didn’t want him to know that I did. It my first-ever vaginal orgasm, and somehow Mr. Tompkins was the one to give it to me.

I grasped and clawed at the bedspread briefly, trying to catch my breath. He didn’t say anything, so I thought that he didn’t realize that I had already climaxed. He pumped away for a couple of minutes longer before cumming inside of me. I winced as I felt his hot cum squirt inside of me.

The old man was breathing heavily as he collapsed on top of me. His cock quickly went limp and retracted itself. It felt like an eternity before he finally climbed off of me, then I pulled up my shorts and headed for the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sugar tits!” Mr. Tompkins shouted as I stormed out.

I was thoroughly disgusted with myself. There was no way that I should have let him manipulate me like that. Even worse, once I got to my car, I remembered that I had one more stop to make. I took off at warp speed to my last delivery.

As I was driving, I could feel Mr. Tompkins's cum leaking out of me. I had to stop at a quiet spot and wipe myself down with some napkins from my glove box. I was still on birth control, so that wasn’t an issue, but I still wanted to clean myself up as soon as possible.

After my final delivery, I hurried home and rushed to the shower. I took considerable time and care to wash every trace of that horrible, old man from my body.

Prior to that day, I had only been with three different men. The first was my high school boyfriend, the second was my rebellious “date a guy twice your age” phase when I was nineteen, and the most recent one I had broken up with a few months prior.

The first and last of the boyfriends weren’t very good in bed at all. The last one was particularly undersized and inconsiderate. The second one was alright, though. Unfortunately, there were just too many personality differences to sustain a relationship with him.

The next day I rearranged the deliveries so that Mr. Tompkins was the last one. I told myself that it was just because I didn’t want to face him, but as I knocked on his door, I knew that it wasn’t true. I had spent almost every waking moment thinking about our encounter and I had to know if it was a fluke or if he could give me that level of pleasure once again.

As I entered his home, he shouted that he wanted his lunch dropped off in the living room. When I got to the living room he was sitting in his reclining chair in front of the television. I, not so subtly, asked him if he would prefer it in the bedroom. He quickly barked at me to just drop it on the table and get out.

Determined to get my answer once and for all, I mentioned that I thought that he would really enjoy it more in the bedroom.

“For fuck’s sake, girl! Do you get that needy every time that a man makes you cum?”

My face went incredibly red and felt like it was on fire. I didn’t think that he had realized that I had climaxed the previous day and suddenly I felt like every bit of the “slut” that he always referred to me as. I stared at the floor in shame. The old man had been right about me all along. As much as he disgusted me, I was more than willing to endure it as long as he could provide me with that kind of pleasure.

Mr. Tompkins started to bark out orders to me. At first, it was to remove my shirt, then the rest of my clothing. Once completely naked, he directed me to rub my clit, then slide a finger inside myself. The penetration quickly escalated to three fingers as I worked myself over for his amusement.

He commanded me to call out, “Fuck me, Mr. Tompkins!” and “Fill my pussy with your seed, Mr. Tompkins!” repeatedly.

Suddenly he barked out, “Alright, you fucking whore, get on the bed!”

As I looked up, his cock was sticking out of his pajama pants once again. This time, it seemed slightly more rigid than the previous day. It suddenly hit me that although Mr. Tompkins didn’t necessarily require a pill to perform, he needed some sort of encouragement.

I walked to the bedroom, feeling relieved that I was going to get the answer to my question, one way or the other. I crawled across the bed with my legs hanging off of the edge and waited for the shuffling of feet and creaking of floorboards to get closer.

Mr. Tompkins neared me and he slid his body in between my outstretched legs. His wrinkly hands gripped onto my hips and he grunted as he dragged me backward slightly into a position of his choosing.

Without warning, he slid his cock in most of the way. I struggled to catch my breath for a moment and my vision went sparkly for a few seconds. Although Mr. Tompkins's cock was only slightly more rigid than the previous day, I could feel every bit of the increased girth that it provided.

Although I had replayed our previous encounter in my head hundreds of times in the past day, it suddenly became crystal clear. All I could think about was Mr. Tompkins slowly thrusting away as I was in the throes of orgasm. At that moment, I was convinced that it was just about to happen again.

I started to panic.

“Don’t cum! Don’t cum! Don’t cum!…” I screamed inside my head over and over again.

My hands latched tightly around the edge of the mattress, gripping it as firmly as I could. My face was pressed against the old man’s bedspread as the smell of vitamins and pain reliever ointments filled my nostrils.

My resistance seemed to have the opposite effect that I was looking for. Even more quickly than before, I could feel my climax approaching. My body started to quiver as I held back a moan of pleasure.

Mr. Tompkins halted his movement.

“Don’t hold back on me, slut! I’m not starting up again until you show me how much of a whore you really are.”

I thought to myself that I had found a way out of this situation, but before I could complete the thought, I heard my voice say, “Oh, fuck! Your cock feels so good! Please, don’t stop!”

The old man chuckled and resumed action, but suddenly I had flipped a switch inside of my brain. In the past, I have never been vocal at all during sex. Suddenly, I could not stop calling out to Mr. Tompkins. It was mostly typical, cliche porno dialog, with an occasional personal reference to my “slutty pussy” or something similar.

As my orgasm approached, I called out, “Oh, fuck! I’m going to cum!”

I started to tense up and Mr. Tompkins was having trouble maintaining control of my lower body as I kept lifting my rear end up off of the bed.

Like a machine gun, I kept repeating that I was cumming over and over. Saliva sprayed from my mouth with every word that I uttered. My orgasm was even more powerful than the previous one. It seemed to last forever and by the time that it was finished, I was lying mostly motionless on the bed.

Mr. Tompkins stopped briefly as he struggled to reposition my prone body to a proper spot to finish his business. My body and legs occasionally jerked and twitched involuntarily as he had his way with my prone body. He finished with a growl as he emptied his load inside of me. Then, he spun around and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

He mumbled as he tried to catch his breath, “You will look like a real woman when I put a baby inside of you. It’s just a matter of time until you will have those full, milky tits.”

After a bit, we both got to our feet. Mr. Tompkins returned to his recliner and I warmed up his lunch in the microwave before leaving.

Our encounters were much the same for several days. I even stopped by on the weekend with a quick lunch that I had personally prepared for him.

Then, one day Mr. Tompkins was being especially difficult. We did our typical foreplay routine for quite some time until he finally told me to leave. When I responded that I wanted to play first, he fished his limp cock out through the fly of his pajamas and told me to suck it.

I wasn’t sure if he was having an erectile dysfunction issue, or if he was just manipulating me in an effort to get me to suck his dick. At that point, I had never done so before. I had also avoided anything face-to-face as well as any sort of oral sex. Those were all activities that I was not interested in doing with Mr. Tompkins.

At that point, I was pretty worked up after a considerable amount of teasing, so I reluctantly decided to take him up on his offer. Slinking between his legs, I grabbed onto his cock only to find it even more flaccid than I had originally thought. It was easy to fit inside of my mouth, but I struggled to get the sort of motion that I was intending.

After what seemed like an eternity, it started to firm up a bit. Once I was able to suck and stroke his cock properly, it grew enough that I was laboring to deal with its thickness.

Instead of continuing with the same approach, I decided to try to push his buttons once again. I stood up and started touching myself while I stroked his cock.

“You keep promising that you are going to put a baby inside of me, Mr. Tompkins. Well, I am not leaving until you actually do it. Look at how little my titties are!” I exclaimed as I gave them a suggestive squeeze. Then, I reached my hand between my legs and started to pet my pussy.

“I am so wet for you right now. Can’t you see how eager my pussy is to take every drop of your load?”

I grabbed ahold of his cock and it felt like it was firm enough to go, so I turned around and lowered myself onto his lap. It took a couple of tries, but I was finally able to gain penetration. Leaning forward with my hands on my knees, I started to ride his cock. At first, I went slowly, but I sped up as I felt Mr. Tompkins's cock begin to firm up.

With his hands on my hips, I rode his cock for several minutes. It quickly became clear to me that it didn’t feel the same, though. I changed positions several times in an effort to get a more positive result, but I was never able to get any real traction.

Suddenly, Mr. Tompkins grabbed me from behind. He wrapped his arms around me, pinning them against my body and forcing himself inside me as deep as he could get. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as his cock throbbed inside of me.

It was my first unfulfilling experience with Mr. Tompkins. To be fair, he was still far and away the best partner that I had ever had. Still, because of his age, appearance, and overall personality, he was on a very short leash. If our arrangement was to continue, he would need to return to his previous level of performance very quickly.

Mr. Tompkins had slumped to the back of his chair and loosened his grip on me. As I stood up, his freshly deposited load poured out of my gaping vagina and onto his lap and the front of his chair.

Disgusted with myself for relenting on several of the things that I had promised that I would not do, I quickly grabbed my clothes and dressed. I left immediately without saying a word.

The rest of the day, I was nearly as consumed with our rendezvous as I had been on the first time that we had sex. If I wanted out of this arrangement, I now had a somewhat flimsy excuse. Conversely, if I wanted to continue on with Mr. Tompkins, I was going to have to find a better way to motivate him.

The following day, I found Mr. Tompkins waiting for his delivery at the kitchen table. He was sipping on a cup of black coffee and reading the newspaper. After placing his lunch on the table, I took a seat across from him.

“Are you getting bored with me, Gerald?” I asked. It was the first time that I had ever called him by his first name. He didn’t respond.

“There is a young guy named Levi who works as a busboy at the restaurant. He is a shy one. I believe that he will be a senior next year. I catch him looking at me quite often. You know what kind of looks I am talking about, don’t you? It’s all he can do to muster the courage to talk to me every once in a while, but he just keeps watching me. I can’t help but notice that there is often a bulge in his pants. He is a very eager young man.”

Mr. Tompkins lowered his newspaper and gave me a look that clearly indicated that he wondered where I was going with my story. I had already gained his attention, now all that I needed to do was to rile him up.

“If you are getting bored with me, I can always see if Levi wants to take your spot. After all, he is young, dumb, and full of cum, as they say. I am sure that it would be awkward, clumsy, and it would probably end pretty quickly. I could probably convince him to go several times. Those teenage boys have quite the sex drive. I am sure that he would put a baby in me after just a few tries.”

I stood up and slowly peeled off my shirt. Then, I slid my shorts and panties down in one motion. I slowly walked to the kitchen counter and bent over the edge of it with my ass sticking out in Mr. Tompkins's direction. Wiggling my butt in a taunting fashion as I spoke, I resumed my monologue.

“Sometimes Levi and I are tasked with prepping one of the dining rooms ahead of dinner service. I could always tease him a little bit, sometime. He likes to try to look down the front of my shirt. Once he is sufficiently worked up, all I have to do then is invite him over. Then, I simply pull down my panties and hike up my skirt. He probably won’t know what to do, so I’ll have to guide him inside the first time.”

“I doubt that he will last a minute on his first try. He’ll apologize and then ask how well he performed. I’ll lie to him and tell him that it was good. Then, I’ll invite him to let me know when he is ready to go again. I wonder how many times I could get him to unload inside of me in one night. At least five, don't you think?”

Just then, I heard Mr. Tompkins’ chair sliding on the linoleum floor. As I looked back, I saw that he had his cock in his hand.

He grabbed my hips and slammed his cock into me hard. For the first time, his cock felt completely rigid. I gasped and my head rocked forward until it was resting on the countertop. His cock was noticeably thicker and was stretching my pussy considerably.

It was obvious that Mr. Tompkins was both very excited and angry. Every thrust was harder, deeper, and faster than ever before. I was getting exactly what I had hoped to get, and I was enjoying every moment of it.

Continuing to antagonize Mr. Tompkins, I cried out, “I am such a slut for your fat cock, Mr. Tompkins!”

He continued to thrust aggressively, slamming my midsection against the edge of the counter with each repetition. I let out a little groan each time that I was driven against it.

My cheek rested on the countertop as I started to brace myself. I continued to cry out, even though saliva was continually pouring out of the side of my mouth.

As my legs began to tremble, I searched for a way to brace myself. I feared that my legs would go weak and take us both down backward. I reached back and found the ledge at the front edge of the kitchen cupboard. Pushing against it gave me a bit more stability as I was quickly losing control of my legs.

My orgasm was the most powerful that I ever had. My legs banged against the cabinet and sometimes flared backward off of the floor. My vision went sparkly and I kept crying out “Fuck me!” over and over again.

As I started to regain my senses, I had one last thought about how to push Mr. Tompkins’ buttons.

I cried out, “Mr. Tompkins, wait! I changed my mind. I don’t want to get pregnant. Please don’t cum inside of me!”

The old bugger lasted about another thirty seconds before he came inside of me. He held it in until he was sure that he had released every drop. Then he staggered backward and collapsed onto his chair.

Still playing along, I pretended to be upset. “I told you not to cum inside of me! What if I get pregnant? Everyone in town would know that I was sleeping with you and that I am a whore!”

He smiled and laughed like I had never seen before. I continued my charade as I got dressed and served him his lunch. Little did he know how satisfied I was with the entire encounter.

I would have happily continued our positive momentum for the next several days, but unfortunately, my monthly visitor arrived and interrupted the fun.

The next day, Mr. Tompkins seemed perplexed that I wasn’t initiating our daily routine. After a bit of prodding, he seemed to realize what the situation was. He expressed displeasure that I wasn’t pregnant but he reveled in the fact that I clearly was not interested in having sex while on my period. Suddenly, he was the one trying to initiate an encounter. He claimed that it didn’t bother him, but I wasn’t interested in the least. It was quite obvious that he was once again enjoying my discomfort about the situation.

The next several days went much the same until I felt comfortable resuming our daily routine. Initially, I didn’t let on that my “visitor” had left.

Much as I had done the past several days, I let Mr. Tompkins try to initiate some interaction and dismissed him. I asked him if he missed our “playtime” the last few days, to which he responded positively. When I asked him to show me how much he had missed me, he pulled out his cock and started to stroke it in front of me.

I asked him to cum for me and I removed my top to help inspire him. He reached out and squeezed my breast with one hand as he stroked away. I got down on my knees and pretended like I was going to suck his cock. Once down there, I acted as if I were conflicted.

“Are you sure that it is alright for me to have sex...you know…like this?” I asked innocently.

When he assured me that it was, I started to pull my shorts down. Mr. Tompkins was already on his feet by the time that I had removed them. He bent me over the side of the couch, wasting no time. I think he realized that I was no longer on my period, but he didn’t really care at that point.

Convinced that I had finally figured out how to push the old goats’ buttons, we resumed our routine the next few days. Just as we had finally settled into a routine, I got a call from my mother. She told me that she had received clearance from her physician to return to her delivery route.

I had conflicted feelings about the entire scenario. I was going to miss my times with Mr. Tompkins, but I was also relieved that I wouldn’t feel like I was required to meet with him each day. I was also slightly worried that he would say something to my mother, but I can’t imagine that she would have believed him anyway.

Five days later, I knocked on Mr. Tompkins’ door. He smiled for one of the first times that I had ever seen. A few days off seemed to have done wonders for him. He didn’t take any prompting and he was rather enthusiastic.

That quickly became our new routine. I stopped by roughly once a week, but sometimes twice. The lighter schedule seemed to agree with Mr. Tompkins as well. He was much more capable and energetic with a few days off in between meetings.

So, that’s my little story. I hope that you enjoyed it.

I do have one piece of advice that I would like to give to all of you younger ladies. The next time some “dirty old man” is flirting with you, making dirty comments, or even trying to cop a feel…take him up on it. It worked out for me.

Now…if you would excuse me, I have to go meet an old friend.