Jennifer strolled down the grey corridors of Churchill Retirement Home with her head in the clouds. Jennifer was an eighteen-year-old nursing student, a beautiful and desirable young girl. However, maintaining her beautiful hair and amazing figure wasn't all she had to worry about.
Currently in her second year of college, Jennifer found herself in serious debt, with no time to get a job since she spent most of her time here at the retirement home working as a volunteer. She knew there was no way she could give it up, for it was the only thing keeping her in college since her grades were poor.
She tried her hardest, but she just was not the academic type. Jennifer did love caring for old people though, and it was her good nature and will which Jennifer demonstrated in extracurricular activities such as this that maintained her school's faith in her.
Today was a particularly bad day for Jennifer. That morning, she had received an angry phone call from her landlord about her overdue rent. He said that if she didn't fork up the money by the end of the week then she would be out. She was trying to not let the fact that she couldn’t pay her rent faze her. It was bound to turn up somewhere, she told herself. And it turned out, on this day, she was right.
She walked into room sixty-five, Mr Edmunds’, and found him sitting by the window. She spent a lot of time caring for Mr Edmunds. Well, when I say caring, he was actually a perfectly able-bodied old man. Sometimes she wondered if he was fitter than she was. But he liked to have someone to talk to, and he didn't have any family that came to visit, so Jennifer always made an effort to see him as much as possible.
"Good morning, Mr Edmunds," she beamed, trying to put on a brave face.
"Why, hello, Jennifer. What a lovely surprise. How are you today, my dear?" He always said the same thing, and it always made her smile. He was sat in his usual armchair next to the window, wearing a white string vest and a pair of grubby Y-fronts.
"Oh, I'm okay," she said plainly.
"You don't sound too sure, sweetheart. Why don't you tell me about it?” Mr Edmunds knew about her debt problems. They'd talked about it before when he asked her about school.
"No, that's okay. Same old thing – rent I can't pay. You know how it is," she said, walking over to the window with a damp cloth.
Mr Edmunds spent a lot of time sitting in his large armchair by the window, so he liked to have his windows clean and shiny.
Mr Edmunds sighed deeply. "What if I told you there was a way for you to earn £500 today?" he said calmly.
Jennifer turned around to see him brandishing a handful of notes. "Mr Edmunds! I can't take money off you." She giggled at his kind offer before continuing to clean the window. Suddenly, she reached high on her tippy toes, reaching for the top window pane.
Mr Edmunds watched avidly as Jennifer's dress rode up her thighs as she reached to clean the window. The armchair he was sitting in, conveniently positioned at the window, made it so that her crotch was just inches from his face when she cleaned the window.
"No, Jennifer, you misunderstand me," he continued. "You'd have to earn it, sweetheart." And with that, he reached out and stroked a hand over her firm bottom.
She jumped and spun her head around to glare at him. He kept his face perfectly calm, as always.
"Mr Edmunds!" she exclaimed.
"Don't act innocent, Jennifer. Let’s not beat around the bush. I'm an old man with lots of money who isn't getting any, and you're a young girl desperate for money with a hot young body to offer. Don't pretend that the idea never entered your mind.”
He was right: the idea had crossed her mind. The men in the retirement home frequently propositioned the young nurses working there. She had been warned about it, and had been subject to it a few times in the past. Some nights, when she lay awake at night, worrying about money, she considered it. She had been offered £250 once by another resident and had very nearly taken him up on it. Mr Edmunds was offering her £500, but she couldn't seriously go through with it, could she?
"The colour on your face tells me I'm right. So what do you say, Jennifer? One fuck – £500 cash in hand. No one will ever know. You can walk out of here after and pretend it never even happened. I'll get what I want, and you'll get what you want. Clean deal."
She stared at him, incredulous. How could he be so calm about it all? He did make it sound terribly tempting, though. That kind of money would keep her afloat for a long time – long enough for her to stop worrying and start putting more time into her studies. And like he said, she could pretend it never happened. She'd never admit it to anyone. Not even herself.
"Do we have a deal?" he whispered.
She thought for a moment then nodded.
A smile instantly lit up Mr Edmunds’ face. "Lock the door, sweetheart," he instructed.
She strutted over to the door and secured it, wedging a chair against it just to be sure, before kicking off her shoes and padding tensely back to the armchair.
"Turn around and pull down your panties," he ordered huskily.
She did as she was told, bending at the waist with her ass facing him. She worked her white panties down her slim thighs and over her knees until they dropped to her feet. She knew from this angle, due to the length of her short dress, that he must have a full view of her expertly trimmed pussy. Then she gasped when she felt one of his old fingers probing her warm slit.
She tensed, knowing he must have felt her reaction, too, because he suddenly spun her around by the hips and pulled her closer to the armchair.
Hesitantly, she placed her thighs on either side of him in the wide armchair and straddled his lap, then reluctantly lowered her bare pussy onto his crotch, thankful for her dress covering it from his leering eye.
But Mr Edmunds was already unbuttoning her dress from the top down, and she watched as her white lace bra sprung from the confines of her unflattering uniform. She looked away as the buttons sprung open all the way down her flat stomach before revealing her small bush, spread wide and inviting over his lap. She never liked the bald look, so she left a very small triangle of hair on her mound, pointing towards her slit.
She cringed as Mr Edmunds looked at her and smirked. "All for me?" he whispered.
It was so surreal – she couldn’t believe she was doing it, kneeling over the old man, her bare pussy straddled across his lap and her bra-clad tits pushed up against his face. Then, to her dismay, she felt him unclasping her lacy white bra before throwing it to one side, releasing her pert breasts from their confines, watching them bounce free.
He wasted no time in sucking a nipple into his eager mouth, expertly suckling and flicking it with his slithering tongue. He alternated between each tit, mauling one breast with his gnarled fingers while slobbering over the other. She was ashamed to admit that she was beginning to feel a familiar tingling sensation. Oh God, could she actually go through with this?
As though he had anticipated that thought, she felt his free arm move behind her back and pull her further down onto him, and in doing so, left her pussy hovering directly over his erect cock, almost touching it.
The rough treatment he was giving her poor nipples was making her body hum with arousal, but she was determined to not let it show.
She felt his suckling momentarily stop as he let out the excited moan, "Oh yeah, make some noise for Grandpa!"
She grimaced, disgusted. He wanted encouragement for his onslaught on her young body? And Grandpa? What kind of sick fetish was that? This old man was even more of pervy than she first thought.
The hard sting of his palm against her buttocks immediately interrupted her thoughts. She gasped in shock and, not wanting to feel his harsh slap again, started to indulge him. "Mmmm... oh yeah... mmmm.”
He stopped sucking and moved both hands to her tits and started kneading them roughly. "Yeah?" he moaned, a question in his tone.
"Oh yeah!" she encouraged. "You suck my... titties." She cringed, both at how unnatural the latter had sounded and the fact she was saying it.
"Call me Grandpa!" he taunted, punctuating his words with a hard thwack on her ass again, indicating that he meant business.
She hesitated before moaning half-heartedly "Oh yeah! You work my titties, Grandpa.”
No sooner had she called him that than he was hurriedly tugging his Y-fronts down his legs, and she gasped in horror as his monstrous cock sprung forth. The thick, purple head led down to what must have been an eight-inch-long shaft, protruding from a cushion of grey fuzz.