This is not long ago. I had been out of college a few years after an MBA and had not yet found a decent job. I had a room in a rooming house in the same neighborhood where I had lived during all my school years so the place was very familiar to me and I was comfortable with the folks there, including Martha, my landlady in her late 50's. Marty, as I called her smoked pot all the time. I could smell it all the way up to my room. I had tried some and it did nothing for me but mute out my reality and yield bizarre visions of cartoon animals swimming about, very strange, yes.

Marty had been a "hippie" from back in the day and she often asked me in for coffee, regaling me with stories on her sex history. She told me of gang-bangs, pulling trains, a chubby dealer with a half-inch dick and a 10-inch tongue, etc. She showed me some old photos of herself as a teenager. These included a few fading sex Polaroid images, if you recall what that was. I found all of it interesting and she served some home made apple pie she had baked herself, with the coffee. I just sat back and dealt with her memories of days in San Francisco when Thaddeus Golas was on the streets handing out his little booklet, "The Lazy Man's Guide to enlightenment." Marty was a hot little teenager with the appearance of a scruffy girl who never even heard the word, "NO." Taking note, her legs, showing through her torn jeans looked first in class.

While sitting there, I heard her hint for a fuck, perhaps 1,000 times (perhaps slightly exaggerated, but not by much). She was far over the hill for me and still rough on the edges. She wore absolutely no makeup and I think combed her frizzy hair with a cooking fork. Once, as I walked out of my room past her door near the front entrance to her house, I heard groaning and moaning and her couch sort of dancing around the wooden plank floor. Noting her door cracked open a bit, I peeked in and saw Marty working on her box with both hands, groaning. This happened several times. I would peek and watch her through the door crack. She would moan and then elicit "Ohhwufff, ouch, ah, shit, fuck, commmmming, ahhh."

After that, I tried not to peek again. A little later, hearing her (and I'm sure she was doing all of it for my benefit- or hers, when it comes down to it -- I peeked again and she was then fisting herself. The result was, I was finally turned on. I heard the slurping noise as she drove her little locked hand up into her vagina. The second time I saw this and heard it, I sustained a major boner and thought, "Ahh, shit," and walked in, my cock standing proudly out of my jeans. Marty looked and me and pulled her hand out, making a loud popping sound. She said, self-satisfied, "You look like you can use some." Without a word, I walked up to her as she spread her knees. I slid into her like a greased piglet running away from kids at the state fair. We were enjoying a gold star fuck for only a minute or so and then she farted loudly and it was the loudest fart I had ever heard. Concerned that she might have torn something off, I said, "Are you o.k?" Then the odor hit me and my kneees buckled, my stiffy quickly went on holiday. I had to excuse myself and said, "I'll be back, Marty," but unsure about it.

No more than a day later I received a phone call from a company that had taken three interviews and I was offered a job. Since it was half way across the country I had to get busy to move. I left just two days later and said goodbye to Marty, who looked a bit sad. After I was settled in my new job, I called Marty to tell her how things were going and we ended up having great phone sex. That old gal had a major catalog of sex to read out. She's older than my own mum but I'm planning to return and visit her to put large wood to her. I'm asking Providence that she does not backfire again while we're playing hide the salami.