Dirty Old Men [And Other Stories] (Zane Presents) (27 page)

“The pussy is good, too,” he told her back. “It’s wet. It’s
real
wet,” he repeated.

“I know,” she bragged with a chuckle. “I’m always wet like this, when I want it.”

“You gonna make me want it more now.”

“
Gooood,
” she squealed to him. “I
want
you to want it like this. I
want
you to want it.”

Henry was pounding so urgently into her slippery pussy that he ignored the burn of his knees on the backseat carpet. His truck was literally bouncing up and down like a comedy movie.

This is the best pussy I’ve had in a loonnng time,
he told himself while he fucked her.
It might be the best pussy I’ve ever had!

He began to feel his nut approaching as he poured it on even stronger, with the windows fogging up from the heat.

“Give it to me, baby; give it to me.”

“Oh, I’ma give it to you all right. I’ma give it to you,
right now!
”

They both squeezed each other hard, as sweat dripped, and clothes became mangled. They panted, nerves reaching a peak in their climactic release. It was the strongest nut that Henry could remember since he had first started having sex more than thirty years ago.

That’s what fucking is supposed to feel like!
he told himself.
That’s how God intended it to be, I’m convinced!

When he was done, his poor, old knees had been rubbed raw. They were burning with fresh white meat, feeling the sting of oxygen.

“Shit!” Henry whined. “Look what I did to my damn knees.”

Tasha leaned up and looked at them. She chuckled. “Looks like you gon’ need some Band-Aids for work tomorrow. And I know my hair is all sweated out now. Look at your windows.”

They were both thrilled, observing all that their great sex had given them.

“So now I know what being ate out feels like…Thanks.”

Henry only chuckled and thought,
Now I know what young, wet, pussy feels like. And it’s great!
But he didn’t have the gall to say it out loud.

For their third sex date, Henry finally invited the young woman over to his cleaned-up place. It wasn’t much to brag about, but he figured he would explain everything to her to make it all make sense.

“So, you mean to tell me that you let your wife have the house, while you moved into this little place?”

The apartment studio looked no bigger than a college dorm room, with a private kitchen, a full-sized refrigerator, and a full bathroom added on.

Henry shrugged. “I don’t need much. How much room do I need with no kids or a wife around anymore? This is the perfect size for me to concentrate.”

Tasha shrugged back. “Okay, it’s your life.” Then she began to strip from her clothes in front of his bed. “I see I finally get to lay down in a soft bed this time, hunh?” she teased.

“Yeah, my knees can’t take the burns from the truck anymore.”

“Nor can my beautiful ass,” she countered.

Now that they were in a normal home setting with light, a bed, and the comfort of private space, Henry was able to witness all of Tasha’s fabulous young body. He felt self-conscious about his own.

“Okay, so, how does an old guy like me end up with a young, hot girl like you? That’s what
I
want to know,” he asked.

She hadn’t asked him yet for money, time, or anything. She only wanted his sex.

“I told you already. I wanted to have my pussy licked. And a lot of other guys weren’t trying to do it, or not without all kinds of other
drama
attached. And I don’t feel like dealing with all that shit.”

“So you decided to have an older man to do it for you?”

Henry was still trying to validate the facts.

“I mean, you was talking all that shit about it to me. So I said, ‘Why not?’” She laughed. “And like I told you, I was high and horny that night.”

Her logic was straightforward. He said, “But you’re not high and horny tonight.”

“Yeah, but now I know how good the shit feels, so I don’t
need
to be high no more. But I’m still fuckin’
horny
though. And you can fuck, too,” she told him. “You seem like you be really in to it, and I like that. Other guys act like they doin’ you a favor, or either they only out to please themselves. So I’d rather give it to you.”

Henry began to wonder how long she would deal with him before she found someone else to please her. But he figured he’d take full advantage of it, while it lasted. So he climbed into the bed and took his place between Tasha’s legs again. He began to lick and suck, up and down, in and out, and around her young, wet and throbbing pussy.

I can’t complain too bad about this,
he convinced himself as he continued to service her.
She always smells clean, she tells it like it is, and she’s constantly horny for me to eat her and fuck her.

It was amazing what great sex with a young woman could do to an old man’s passion and ego. Henry’s good fortune and cheerful attitude extended to the workplace. He then found himself landing bigger advertising contracts
for the newspaper. He had upgraded his existing accounts, and he was bouncing around the office now like a teenager. He felt as if he had lost
fifty
pounds and was able to float up and down the hallways.

“Hey, ah, Henry, you get back in good graces with your wife?” one of his coworkers asked him at the office. After awhile, they could all tell that something was different about him.

“Nope. And I’m no longer worried about it either.” He now refused to allow himself to be punished for the decisions of his past. He had moving on to do.

After work that evening, Henry walked out to his Ford Expedition as usual, climbed in with his briefcase, started up his engine, and drove out of the newspaper parking lot toward home. He had no idea that a plainclothes detective had been waiting for him in a brown, unmarked sedan. The sedan followed his truck onto the highway and off the exit ramp toward his apartment. When the detective finally flipped on his police lights behind him and pulled him over, Henry had no idea what he had done wrong.

He looked at the flashing police lights through his rearview mirror and snapped, “What the hell?” He knew he had not been speeding.

He slowly pulled over to his right and parked on the side of the road, and waited for the officer to explain.

He watched through his side-view mirror as a no-nonsense black man in his forties, climbed out of the sedan and headed toward the driver’s side door of his truck. He had a pen and pad in hand, and was dressed in a dark-blue sports jacket, brown slacks, and soft leather shoes.

Once he had reached the window, Henry asked him, “Is there a problem, officer? I don’t believe I was going past the speed limit.”

The officer smiled. “No, you’re a model citizen, Henry. You weren’t speeding at all. I wanted to stop you and ask you some questions about ah…” He looked down at his notepad and stated, “LaTasha Springfield.”

As soon as Henry heard the name, his heart nearly jumped into his throat and choked him to death. What had
she
done wrong?

“Ahh…yeah,” he responded slowly as his heart continued to pound. He still felt guilty about dealing with the young woman.

The detective said, “I need to ask you a few questions about her, that’s all.”

“Well, what did she do? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Has she been arrested for marijuana? Has she robbed someone? What is the problem?

The officer paused a minute to gather his words. “Henry, have you had sexual relations with ah, LaTasha?” he asked, glancing at his notepad again.

Henry’s wide eyes told him everything he needed to know before he spoke a word.

SHIT!
he cursed himself.
What the hell is this?

Henry paused and asked, “Why?” He could hardly breathe when he spoke.

Has someone fucking told on me? Has my wife hired a damn spy? Or was it my damn nosy neighbors? SHIT!

All kinds of scenarios began to run through his mind.

“I need you to step out of the car and come with me,” the officer told him. He was being extra civil about it.

Henry understood as much and did what the officer requested.

“Now I’m gonna have to put these handcuffs on you as a precaution. I know you’re not going to try anything crazy. I know where you work and where you live.”

Henry looked him in the eyes and started breathing even heavier, as if he were only two beats away from a massive heart attack.

“It’s all right; I simply need to have a frank talk with you,” the officer assured him. He then pulled out a pair of shiny steel handcuffs, turned Henry around to face his truck, and placed the cold, hard cuffs around his meaty wrists.

He led Henry to the passenger side of his umarked car and let him inside. He then walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in himself.

Henry was still breathing hard when the officer finally introduced himself.

“Henry, my name is Detective Troy Patterson. I work with the Richmond Police Department’s vice squad, its rape and child molestation divisions.”

“Rape and child molestation?”

The detective looked into his panicked and confused eyes. “Did you not know that LaTasha was sixteen years old?”

“What? She told me that she was
nineteen.
You gotta believe me, man! I wouldn’t have gone anywhere
near
a sixteen-year-old girl!”

He was overexcited and sweating, understandably. The girl had lied to him and had landed him in a world of trouble.

The detective nodded thoughtfully. “Well, how did you meet her?”

“I met her at a car show, and I handed her my business card with my number on it. But I thought she was of age. And I didn’t even think that she would call me.”

“Why not?” the detective asked him.

Henry looked at him incredulously. “Come on, man, have you seen her? I mean, why she wanna talk to
me?
”

The detective shrugged. “Why did you give her your number?”

These were obvious questions to Henry. He answered with a slight stutter, out of fear, “Because she was…she was
hot.
” He felt embarrassed to even have to say it. But the detective kept his poise with him.

“When I saw your case come across my desk, I jumped right on it to make sure I got down to the bottom of this thing, and save you from a lot of unnecessary embarrassment. I understand our culture a little better than a lot of the other guys down at the station.

“Now, I understand that you may have a few things going on that you may need to keep a solid lid on. That’s why I didn’t come and get you from your office at the newspaper.”

Henry nodded to him. “Thank you.”

“But at the same time,” the detective addressed him, “at no time in your conversations with this young lady, did you ask her more questions about her age, where she worked, went to school, or anything of that nature? I mean, I don’t know, but that seems like a natural conversation to me. She didn’t talk about anything that struck you as alarming?”

Henry shook his head. “To tell you the truth, once she told me she was
nineteen,
I really didn’t focus on her age anymore. I mean, you know how some of these women get. They get
defensive
when you talk about their age too much. So I left it alone.”

“Well, even at nineteen, that’s still a little
young
for you, ain’t it? I would hardly call that a
woman.
I have a
daughter
who’s nearly that age. She’s a senior in high school now.”

The detective seemed to be getting more agitated.

Henry countered, “I have a daughter,
too.
But they’re
all
somebody’s daughter, Officer. My
wife
is somebody’s daughter.
Your
wife is.”

“Yeah, but our
wives
were old enough to make their own
decisions
for themselves, and they were not up against men who were more than
twice
their age.”

“Officer, do you think this girl had any problems making her own decisions? She practically
begged
me to pick her up. I didn’t even wanna do it.”