Part 1

I was reminded of this tale by a friend on one of the forums I frequent, a fine preacher himself. He pointed out that although I had told this tale to him, I had never written it down for others to mock and ridicule. So tonight, I will tell a strange and miserable tale that has remained known but to me and a few others until now. It is a tale from the beginning of The Fuck™. As a matter of fact, at the time of this story. . .there WAS no Fuck™! There was simply the knowledge that I was doing SOMETHING strange, even if I did not quite know what it was.

Yes, brothers, let us step into the miserable time machine and set it for the year 2001. The FIRST year that a business consultant named Atom had a revelation that he was going to be walking down a dark path. The path did not yet have a name, but it lay before him. . .inviting, seductive. . .yet full of misery and lessons yet to be learned as a man became a preacher and a formless idea became The Fuck™!

*insert strange time machine noises and flashing lights here*

2001. It seems like such a short time ago, yet it was a different world. The World Trade Center still defiantly flipped the twin birds at the rest of the world, and I was still working in Orlando Florida as a middle manager of a department that concerned itself primarily with saving floundering businesses. But when I went home and the tie was removed, I had darker business to tend to. . .bitches.
It was only about a year before when I had the revelation that opened my eyes to the bitches surrounding not only me, but millions of others. At that time, I wasn't really that concerned for them, just for myself. . .the preacher was still yet to be born, but I was already laying the groundwork for what would become The Fuck™. I had a crude version of a porn "employment site" created and on the internet for about 6 months. It only had 3 pages, unlike the 20 page monster I now have, but so far it had served its purpose. . .to lure bitches into a web of deception. It didn't serve it well, though. Unlike the site I have now, it wasn't easy to find. I had no idea about submitting it to search engines. It was just kind of. . .there.
So far, it had lured just 2 bitches to me. Not that great of an evil plan. I had to find a way to get more bitches.

So one night, while surfing the web for porn, I clicked a promising link and somehow ended up at a swinger site. There they were! HUNDREDS of bitches! Posting on a website. . .LOOKING FOR SEX! I had found the holy grail of bitches!

*Cue heavenly choir music and rays of golden light from above here*

Well. . .that was what I thought at first anyway.
I quickly found out that the reality of swinger sites is that most of the bitches are married. That a single man on a swinger site is not a lucky man. That women who are not married on swinger sites are pretty much looking for two things: Lesbian sex and group sex. Hell. . .even the bitches who ARE married are pretty much looking for lesbian sex and group sex! The women I wrote to weren't interested in me unless I brought either another bitch or at least one more guy with me. . .preferably both. What was I to do? I had here in my grasp a gold mine of bitches! Was I just supposed to give up? Walk away once I had seen what was there? Fuck no.

So I blew the dust off of my craptacular website and signed back onto the site under a different name. Only THIS time, I wasn't Atom. Single guy. I was Atom. Recruiter for an adult internet distributor!
I quickly received my first lesson in flaming. I was mocked. I was called names I had never heard. I was insulted in every way.
But I sent an invitation to visit my website to about a dozen single bitches. . .promising just about any kind of sex they desired. All they had to do was pass an interview and they were on their way to all the carpet-munching and gang-banging action they could handle. . .and get paid for it at the same time!

I was promptly banned from the site.
But not before 3 of those 12 bitches e-mailed me back.
It had worked! Sure, I was banned. Sure, my ego was a little bruised by the abuse I had put up with on the short road to my banishment. But I had been surfing around and had discovered that there were MANY swinger sites out there! Now that I knew that it worked, I could refine the process to perfection.
Well, the refinement never happened. I abandoned swinger sites after about a year because I ran out of free ones and I damn sure wasn't going to PAY to be banned after a few days.

Oh yes. . .I almost forgot. There was an actual TALE to be told here instead of just reminiscing about the early days. Once again, I have let the weed get the better of me, brothers, bear with me.
I fucked all three of those first bitches from my first foray onto swinger sites. But because I was still working, I had to work around my schedule. Being a manager, I didn't really have well-scheduled days off, so I had to actually use days of my vacation time to meet and fuck my hard-earned hoes. So it actually took me 3 months to meet them all. It is the last of these that this strange and miserable tale I have spent so long setting up is about.

Her name was Ivana. She was a former schoolteacher who had been born in Russia. When she initially replied to me, she accused me of playing a cruel joke on her. Now, she would have been close to the truth, but at that time, I was not concerned with the humiliation of bitches or the preaching of The Fuck™, simply to lure bitches to me for sex. I e-mailed her back, asking what she meant. She replied that just because she was an older woman and still needed sex was no reason to be cruel by offering her some kind of fantasy job. After all. . .who wanted to see a grandmother of 3 naked on the internet anyway?
This sparked my interest. I have no problem fucking older women. As a matter of fact, the FIRST slitch I had ever snared with my website was 51 years old. At the time, I was 34 years old.
I wrote back, assuring her it was no joke, and asking exactly how old she was. I was expecting her to be in her 50s. Her answer surprised me. Ivana was 64 years old and her birthday was in 2 months, so she was almost 65.
She was more than 30 years older than me.
On a swinger site.
Looking for sex.

I hadn't realized just how old Ivana was from her profile. I think under age it had something like "Ask me" instead of a number.
I was uncertain. My plan had worked, but the bitch was 65 fucking years old! Did I really want to fuck a 65 year old bitch? Would that make me desperate? Would that make me a pervert? What 34 year old guy fucks a 65 year old bitch?
The same thoughts lurked in my head for the next few days while I worked, trying to decide if I even wanted to write her back. All I could think about was if sex with a 65 year old bitch could be any good or not. Finally I decided. The 51 year old bitch I had fucked last year had been pretty damn wild. Why not? I'd write her back and ask for a picture. If she was a wrinkled old hagatha I could still wash my hands of it and try for more bitches elsewhere. I was in. I sent the e-mail.

I was surprised to see a few days later that she had sent me the picture I had requested. Ivana wasn't half bad! She was a short, dark haired, small-breasted woman who had aged well. She had a nice smile and not too many wrinkles, except at the corners of her eyes and mouth. I stared at the picture. Trying to see her naked. Trying to see myself behind her, pumping a wad into her doggy-style. My cock got hard. I knew then that it was going to happen. We e-mailed back and forth for almost a month, discussing the proposal. I pretended to negotiate, but knew that I had to have her.

In the interest of keeping the size of this post down to that which can be read in one day or less, I won't detail the conversations, except to say that I eventually convinced her that she was sexy enough to make a lot of money having sex on the internet. After all, she had been on a swinger site looking for sex already, why not get paid for it? All of the other men who had written to her had balked when she told them her age, it seemed that I was the only game in town for her.
She was ready for her "interview".
Ivana agreed to meet me, but refused to go to a hotel or anywhere else because she did not like to drive. If I wanted my GILF experience, I would have to come to her and meet her at her house.

The day came and I drove the 2 hours to the town she lived in. Following her directions, I found her living in a doublewide manufactured home in a retirement community. A nice, quiet neighborhood with well-tended yards and old people cruising down the street in golf carts.

*Cue Twilight Zone theme music here*

It was a pretty strange experience, driving down those identical streets lined with identical houses, on my way to fuck a bitch who had been born in 1936. I was a bit nervous and out of my element, to say the least.
I parked my car in front of her home, checked my tie in the mirror, and walked up the sidewalk that cut through the perfectly manicured yard and rang the doorbell. I was greeted with the yapping of a little dog.
The door opened and Ivana smiled at me and invited me into the house. There was a little black poodle shaking and yapping around our ankles. I wanted to kick it, but figured that wasn't the best thing to do at this point. I had driven 2 hours to get there, I sure as fuck wasn't going to kick that dog and drive back without fucking that old bitch.

Ivana offered me a seat on the couch.
A T.V. with The Price is Right was on. She offered me a glass of tea. A cockateel was chirping in a cage. There were fake plants everywhere. Little lighthouse sculptures clustered on several sets of shelves. The little poodle was about to shake itself to death it was so fucking excited to see me.
HOLY FUCKING SHIT! I WAS AT MY GRANDMA'S HOUSE!
I was kind of freaking out a little. I took the iced tea off of the coaster she had carefully placed it on. . .right next to a FUCKING AARP MAGAZINE! And gulped it down. I was here. Let's do this shit!

We talked for a few minutes, discussing and confirming what we had agreed on over the past few weeks. I told her that the contracts would be mailed to her within 7-10 business days after the interview. As we talked and I concentrated more on my lies, I calmed down. But as the conversation reached its end, she started getting nervous. I finally felt like I was getting a handle on this. I stood and held my hand out to her and asked if she was ready for the interview. She nodded and took my hand. Mine was sweaty, hers was cold. I don't know who was more nervous. I looked for the bedroom and she led me down the hall.
"We'll use the guest room" She said, smiling. "You wait in here. I'll be right back."
That should have been my first clue something was off, but I went into the small room. A queen-sized bed with a pink flowered comforter greeted me. The poodle followed me in and jumped up on it, rolling over on his back so I could pet it's belly. Ivana came through the door about 5 minutes later, but instead of the jeans and striped t-shirt and tennis shoes she had been wearing, she now wore a belted pink bathrobe. She smiled again.
"I change to be more comfortable. You want to get undressed now?" She asked with her thick Russian accent. I stepped forward and took hold of the belt in front, pulling out the bow tie. The robe fell open. I inspected the woman I was about to fuck.

It seems I am a bit long-winded and will have to split this miserable tale up.
Part 2 below.

__________________
All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

Arthur Schopenhauer

Part 2

Ivana was short. About 5'5. She had pageboy cut shoulder-length dark hair. Her once full lips were now pinched in a little with age. Wrinkles clustered at the corners of her eyes and mouth. The skin under her chin sagged a bit, but not much. Her skin was pale. She was generally slim, except at her stomach, where she had a bit of a pot belly, and her hips, which were fairly wide.
Her small breasts sagged. Her crotch was covered with a patch of thick, dark hair. Actually, she wasn't bad. I've seen worse bodies on women half her age. She must have been pretty cute when she was younger.
Shyly, she kept her eyes lowered as I took in the view. All in all, not bad.

My cock started to get hard. I reached into the robe and touched her breast. She flinched from my touch. I kept my hand on her tit and smiled at her.
"What's wrong?" I asked. Moving my thumb back and forth gently on her nipple.
"I have no man to touch me except my husband for many years." She answered, nervously smiling back, but still not looking at me.
"Husband?" I asked. She had never mentioned a husband.
"No. No. He is gone." She answered.
I assumed that she meant her husband was dead.
"I'm sorry." I said.
"No. Let us just hurry with this." She said quietly, briefly looking at me, then looking away.

Fine by me. As I fondled her small, sagging breast with one hand, I pulled the robe off of her shoulders with the other, letting it fall to the floor. She instinctively raised her hands to cover her breasts, but remembered what we were there to do and lowered them. I moved closer and reached around her to rub her ass with my other hand while I brought her tit to my mouth and sucked her nipple. Not a bad ass. A little saggy, but not bad. Now that I had her naked and her nipple was getting hard in my mouth and I was feeling her ass, fucking a 65 year old bitch didn't seem so bad. My cock was getting pretty hard.
I took her hand and placed it on my crotch so she could feel my cock straining against my slacks. She rubbed around for a minute.
"It gets hard now?" She whispered in my ear as I sucked her tit and rubbed her ass. "You take off the pants now?"
I stepped back and unbuckled my pants, dropping them around my ankles. My cock in all its six-inch glory sprang forth! I moved forward again, reaching between her legs with one hand and taking her hand with my other and wrapping it around my cock. She knew what to do and started stroking me up and down slowly while my own fingers found her slit and started probing for her opening. Soon I found it and slid a finger into her moist pussy. It wasn't dripping wet, just barely wet enough for me to get it in there without much trouble. She gasped and flinched away as I entered her, but moved closer as I started pushing in and out of her. She stroked my cock faster and surprised me by resting her head on my chest and moaning as I pushed a second finger into her quickly loosening cunt. She stopped stroking my cock long enough to unbutton my shirt. She opened it and sucked my nipple, head resting on my chest. We stood close together as I fingered her pussy and she slowly jacked me off.

Without me asking, she began to kiss her way down my chest until she was on her knees, she kissed down my leg and back up again, then took one of my balls into her mouth, gently sucking it while she stroked me with one hand and caressed my ass with the other. She moved to my other ball and sucked it also. She slowly licked and sucked my balls for a few minutes, switching back and forth. I couldn't believe I had a bitch old enough to be my grandmother on her knees with my balls in her mouth!

I groaned with lust and entangled my fingers in her dark hair. She moved up, kissing lightly around the base of my cock, teasing me until I groaned "Suck it!" and pushed on the back of her head. She smiled up at me and licked up the length of my shaft, swirling her tongue in a circle around the head before popping it into her mouth and sucking it in about halfway, still stroking the other half. She furiously bobbed up and down, slurping loudly as she lubed my hard cock with her spit. That old bitch knew how to suck cock better than women half her age! Hell, It was the best head I had gotten in years! It was a wet, sloppy, moaning blowjob that couldn't have lasted more than a minute before I grunted "I'm gonna cum!"
She stopped slurping up and down my shaft, holding my cock halfway in her mouth as she quickly jacked me off. My knees grew weak and I moaned with pleasure as she stroked my spurting cock into her mouth. I could feel her tongue swirling around the head of my cock as I blew my wad, filling her mouth with warm sperm. She kept stroking me as I finished. She briefly looked into my eyes, then back down as she swallowed my load. She slowly sucked up and down a few times before coming off the tip of my dick with a slurp and a lick to clean it off.

I staggered and hit the bed with my knees, falling back onto it pretty clumsily. She smiled at me shyly as she got up off the floor, climbed up on the bed with me and straddled my waist. I could feel the warmth of her hairy crotch as she rubbed herself back and forth on my stomach.
"You like? Now I go." She whispered huskily inches from my face, close enough to smell my sperm on her breath. I didn't really have time to answer as she moved down over my hips, reached down and took my still hard cock and stuffed it into her wet pussy above me. She grunted with lust and lowered herself until I was completely inside. It wasn't the tightest pussy I've ever had, but it was damn good. I was still recovering from the fantastic blowjob I had just recieved, and was unable to speak as she sat up on her knees with my cock inside of her and she ground her hips in a small circle, her eyes closed. She leaned forward and rested her head on my chest, licking my nipple again as she started to slowly ride up and down my cock, moving only her lower body. All I could do was hang on for the ride as she picked up the pace, she began to moan as she bounced her ass up and down on my cock faster. I reached down and took hold of her hips, pushing them down harder as she went down until we had a good rhythm going and the bed was squeaking under us. She moaned wordlessly as she rode me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the ride. This old bitch was fucking wild! I was damn glad I came now. She stopped bouncing and I opened my eyes. She was over me, now looking directly into my own eyes, her messy dark hair sweaty and dangling over her face. She was gasping heavily.
"You okay?" I asked. . .hoping the old bitch wasn't going to have a heart attack or something. Well, at least before I blew my load, anyway.

She slid off of my cock and rolled over onto her back, her stomach heaved as she gasped for air.
"I'm tired. You finish. You are not so old so you do better."
"You did just fine." I said, relieved, as I moved between her spread legs.
I hooked my hands behind her knees as she reached down and guided me into her. She was wet enough now that I slid into her warm hole to the hilt without even trying. I was on my hands and knees over her, pumping in and out of her old pussy hard and fast. She lay beneath, humping her hips up to meet my thrusts, breathing heavily and moaning "Yes! Yes! Yes!" With each one. Her eyes were closed and she reached down to squeeze my ass as our bodies slapped together. Her little titties flopped back and forth as I pounded her hard.

I felt like I wasn't going to last much longer and wanted to finish her from behind, just so I could say I had a 65 year old bitch doggie-style. . .I was here, why not? So I pulled out and pushed her legs over to the side, she opened her eyes and looked up at me as I got up on my knees, my cock in hand. She knew what I wanted and finished turning over, legs spread. Her pussy was open before me as she propped herself up on her knees and elbows.
"You like it this way? You finish now?" She asked over her shoulder, her thick Russian accent sexy as hell.
For an answer, I guided my dick into her sloppy hole and pushed in. I gripped her hips, trying to ignore the fact that my hands could grab a bit too much sagging flesh and started pounding her hard and fast again.
The room was full of the sound of the squeaking bed, my body slapping against hers, the wet slurp of my cock sliding in and out of her pussy, her steady moans of "Yes! Yes! Yes!" as I fucked her hard as I could. I could feel my second load churning in my balls and pulled her ass to me hard.
She knew I was about finished and grunted,"Harder! Harder! Harder!" As I gave her a last few deep thrusts before I groaned with pleasure and held my spurting cock deep within her cunt, filling her hole with warm sperm, until my balls were drained and it had finished twitching inside of her. I slipped my dick out and collapsed beside her, exhausted.
We lay together, wordless, in a tangle of sweaty arms and legs, her back to me.
She rolled over facing me and surprised me by opening her mouth and kissing me. Her tongue slipped between my lips and I lay there, sloppy french kissing a 65 year old woman as we lay together naked, our open mouths sucking at each other, my sperm leaking out from between her legs between us.

Of the things we had done, it was the kiss that made me think most about what we had just done. The sex had been good, but as far as bitches go, one hole is pretty much the same as another. It was the intimacy of the kiss that made me realize that the woman I was face to face with was old enough to be my grandmother. That my tongue was in the mouth of a 65 year old woman! That she was passionately kissing a man that was 30 years younger than she was. That I could still taste my sperm on her lips. That my sperm was in the stomach and pussy of a woman that I would not normally look at twice as sexually desirable. I actually felt a little sick as we finally broke the long, wet kiss.

Ivana got up, gathered the bathrobe and told me to wait in the front room. I got dressed and sat back down on the couch. Trying not to think too hard about that last, somehow disgusting, but very erotic kiss. I tried to think about how the wild old bitch had drained my balls twice. . .but it was the KISS that kept invading my thoughts.
Family Feud was on. The empty glass of tea sat on its coaster. The lighthouses sat on their shelves. The poodle was asleep on the other end of the couch. undisturbed by the sounds that had been coming from the guest room, I guess.
I could hear the water running behind the door of what I assumed was the bathroom.
I surveyed the situation. Yes. It was kind of a stange thing to do, fucking a woman who was 65 years old. No. It wasn't bad at all. No. She wouldn't win any beauty contests these days. Yes. She had swallowed my load and ridden my cock. All in all, I believed the trip was worth it.

I heard the hair dryer for a few minutes, then She came out into the living room, once again wearing her shorts and t-shirt.
"I do good? You like everything?" She shyly asked as she sat on the couch next to me.
"You did great."
"You make me feel like a woman again. It has been so long." She smiled at me. "It is good that I can still bring much pleasure to a man."
She seemed sincere and I felt a little embarrassed that I had used her the way I did. I used to be such a soft-hearted fucker in those days. I gave her a weak smile and thanked her.
"I was afraid that because I am old you would try to be gently with me but that is not how it feels good and you did it hard so it was good."
I was getting pretty embarassed and decided that it was time to make my exit. After all, here was a woman old enough to be my grandmother praising me for how hard I had just fucked her. It was a little strange and I really just wanted to get the hell out of there now that I was done with her old cunt. I told her I had to leave for a meeting. As she walked me to the door, I thanked her for her time and reassured her that she did great and that we would be contacting her shortly.

Now, normally, this would be the end of the tale. My exit from the stage of deception, never to be seen by the used whore again, leaving her to wonder exactly what had just happened. And usually you would be right. I would wrap the story up with some kind of lesson, large or small about how the dirty deed described in such long-winded way pertains to The Fuck™ in some manner. There are lessons to be learned here, to be sure, but there are still a few to come, so read on, brothers.

I left the stale air of Ivana's mobile home and breathed deep of the fresh outside breeze, satisfied that my little visit had been worth it. . .if just a little uncomfortable at times. As I climbed into my car to leave, I could see Ivana waving to me from behind the screen door. I waved back and she closed the door behind her. I started my car.

Nothing. It wouldn't start.

Part 3 below

__________________
All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

Arthur Schopenhauer

Part 3

I turned the key again and again. The only sound was a weak clicking. After a few more tries, even that was gone. I got a sick feeling in my stomach. My battery was dead. There was no car in Ivana's driveway. I was in a strange town where I knew nobody 2 hours away from where I lived. What now?

I popped the hood and got out of the car, hoping against all odds that it was just a loose battery cable. As I shut my door, I could hear the fucking poodle yapping from Ivana's house. She opened the door and saw me opening the hood of my car. She stood there for a bit, watching me futz around before getting back in and trying again. Still nothing. That bitch was dead.
Ivana came outside and hurried over to the car.
"What is the matter?" She asked, worry in her voice.
I explained to her that my car wouldn't start and that it was probably the battery. Her eyes widened and she got a panicked sound in her voice.
"This no good! You must go now!"
Once again I told her that I couldn't because my car wouldn't start, but if she let me use her phone, I could call a friend of mine and he could be there in a couple of hours.
When I said 'a couple of hours', her eyes popped even wider.
"But my husband, he will be back soon!"
HUSBAND?!
Oh, come on brothers. You knew there was going to be a husband SOMEWHERE in this tale. . .didn't you? I had assumed that when she said that it had been a long time since she had been fucked good and that her husband was gone meant that she was a widow. I guess that wasn't the case.

She saw my own shocked look.
"I tell you he was gone. He plays golf now. He will be back for lunch soon!" She started fluttering around, talking with her hands, her accent getting thicker as she became obviously frustrated.
"No. You must be gone or he will be much angry with me." Inside, I was thinking that yes. . .if I came home and discovered some young guy 'entertaining' my wife, I might be a little angry myself.
"Just let me use your phone, okay?" I said sharply to her. Hoping that her husband had trained her good enough to know when to obey and when to flap her cocksucker. She calmed down, but did not look at me as she led me back into the house. The poodle was yapping around my feet like the little shit had never seen me before. I wanted so much to kick that little fucker, but why make a bad situation worse? I sat on the couch and she brought me the cordless. She left the room. I dialed the phone, trying to reach my friend Redneck Dave. He was the kind of guy I could rely on to haul ass out here and risk getting a speeding ticket for a case of Budweiser. Of course. . . .no answer. Okay. Plan B. This old bitch must know SOMEBODY with a car living around there who could give me a jump.

I went down the hall to give her back the phone and ask if one of her neighbors could help out. She was in the room that we had been fucking in. The bed was now neatly made and she was sitting on the edge of it, her face in her hands, her body shaking with sobs. She looked up and saw me standing there. She wiped the back of her hand across her red rimmed eyes and she gave me a shaky smile.
"What we have done, it is not the normal thing I do." She stammered. I handed her the phone and sat next to her. She flinched away from me as I put my hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her that it would be allright. I told her that I couldn't get ahold of my friend and asked her if there was anybody nearby who could help out. She shook her head.
"We will have to wait for my husband to come home and hope we can tell him a good story." I nodded in agreement. But I could tell she was too upset to be lying to her husband.
"Just let me do the talking." I told her. "We'd better wait out in the living room." She nodded and walked out with me.

We sat in the stuffy, stale-smelling living room. She sat on one end of the couch, I sat on the other. We did not look at each other. We barely spoke. She was trusting me to come up with a good story to explain my presence, and my mind was racing as I came up with and discarded plenty before coming up with the one that we would use. I told her. She seemed doubtful, but agreed that it was a good one. So we waited.
If the first time I sat in that living room was strange, this time it was downright uncomfortable. Now Ivana did not seem so much the sex-starved old slut who would invite a stranger into her home and suck his balls, but like a vulnerable old lady. I could barely believe that just a while before, she had been grunting for me to fuck her harder while I pumped a load of warm jizz into her loose pussy, but there we were. There was a 65 year old married woman sitting on the other end of the couch with a load of my sperm in her stomach, considering the possible ramifications of cheating on her husband. And there I was on the other end, having lured my way between an old woman's legs through lies and deception, now unable to make my getaway. The liar and the cheating whore. What a fucking pair. Who was worse? Was it any wonder we didn't speak or look at each other? So there we sat in silence, watching one game show after another, waiting for her husband to arrive so we could each tell our lies and I could hopefully make my exit.

Finally, after about an hour and a half of uncomfortable silence, the little shithead poodle jumped up and started barking his ass off! Ivana turned pale and looked like she was going to pass out as the shrill yapping startled her. She looked at me with desperation in her wide eyes.
"That is him! My husband he is home!" She whispered. I took a deep breath and readied myself for my performance. The poodle was spinning around in circles by the front door, yapping and shaking like his God was going to appear. . .maybe that is how we seem to dogs, who knows?

The door opened and the poodle started jumping up and down, clawing at the legs of the man who walked in. A much older man than I expected. Skinny, bald head except for tufts of pure white hair on the sides. Bent, frail, thick glasses. I breathed a sigh of relief. This guy didn't seem like he was going to be a problem. After all, anybody who would wear a bright yellow shirt with pink and blue checkered slacks and white shoes didn't really seem that threatening. But Ivana was clearly shaken by his appearance. She came to her feet and went to him. He bent down and was scratching the ecstatic dog. As he did so, he asked Ivana,

"Whose car is out there?" In a wheezing, reedy voice. Apparently, the old fellow hadn't spotted me sitting on the far end of the couch yet. Seeing the panic in Ivana's eyes, I stood and walked over, extending my hand to him. He looked up from the dog with a bit of confusion in his eyes as he shook my outstretched hand with a weak grip.
"Afternoon, sir." I grinned as I released his hand. "Sorry to bother you, but I seem to having a bit of car trouble. Your wife invited me in for a few minutes until you got home. I've been trying to use your phone to call a friend to come over here and give my car a jump."
He looked me up and down, taking in my button-down and slacks. It's a good thing I come to these "interviews" dressed for business. He shook his head a little in sympathy.
"Goddamn things. . .that's how they get ya. Parts! So many damn moving parts in a car, somethings bound to break down sooner or later. And it's never convenient, is it?" He gave a dry little chuckle. I knew it was going to work. I thought Ivana was going to collapse. I don't think she had taken a breath during the short conversation. He turned to his wife and gave her a quick peck on the lips. If only that old fucker had know what those lips had been doing just a bit earlier. . .

"I'm hungry as hell, why don't you fix us something to eat so I can go out and take a look at this young fella's car?" Ivana practically tripped over herself getting away from us and into the kitchen. The old man introduced himself as Peter and we sat in the living room and made small talk while she cooked lunch. I explained how I had been trying to find a shortcut to the mall when my car had died in front of their house. He bought every word, even giving me directions to where I needed to go. We had a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and canned chicken noodle soup. I sat talking and laughing with Peter while his cheating whore of a wife picked at her food, not meeting my eyes. He asked her if she was okay and she looked faint while she assured him nothing was wrong. . .nothing at all. Well, except for the fact that she had just been on her hands and knees with my cock squirting in her old twat. . .but she kept that little detail to herself. He told her that she looked a little ill, maybe the heat? Maybe she might want to go lay down for a bit while we looked at my car. She quickly agreed and gathered the dishes. She quickly shook my hand, hers was cold and trembling as she told me she was glad to meet me, and she made her exit. . .never to be seen by my eyes again as I watched her walk down the hall to the bedroom.

Peter and I went outside and I popped the hood while he messed with the battery cables. We messed around for a few minutes before he backed his car out of the driveway and we hooked up the jumper cables and gave my car a jump. I shook his hand and thanked him while we let the battery charge up for a few minutes, then finally made my escape. . .grinning like a madman as I passed the identical houses with the identical yards, thumping over the speed bumps and waving to the old folks passing opposite in their golf carts. My Granny-fucking escapade was over at last.

Almost.

It turns out the alternator was what was wrong with my car, so it quit on me again a few miles down the road as I coasted into a Denny's parking lot, where I sat drinking coffee and reading newspapers for the 3 hours it took me to finally get hold of Redneck Dave and the 2 hours it took him to come get my ass. Then it took a couple more hours at the part store and in the parking lot pulling my alternator to get me back on the road. That old fucker Peter was right. Fucking cars!

There it is, brothers. The strangely miserable, yet absolutely true tale of the oldest bitch I have ever fucked. Would I do it again? In a fucking heartbeat. If I could find a horny old bitch who was 99 I would pound the dust out of her cunt. But that's just me. I am STILL looking to break my record for the oldest bitch. Every time I look at my e-mails, I'm looking for that magic number. I've already fucked an 18 year old. . .heh. She was still in high school and cut class for her "interview". But she had that Florida State Driver's License that said that she could legally be a whore. I can't get any younger legally so the only direction I have left to go is up.

The lesson? Ah. . .the lesson. I made quite a few mistakes during this particular episode of my strange and miserable life that I hope my brothers will not repeat. This tale does not necessarily put me in the best light, but that's okay, the best lessons come from failure.
Number one:
NEVER go to a bitches house or have her come to your house! I cannot stress this enough. This little episode turned out allright, but who knows what might have happened if things had twisted just a little differently. Always control the situation as far as the meeting place. I almost exclusively use hotels. I never park my car by the room. I am always in the room waiting for the slitch well ahead of time. Make sure SHE meets YOU. . .not the other way around! There is just so much shit that can go wrong from not following this simple piece of advice that I could write example after example of fucked-up situations. Let's just look at a worst-case scenario.
The bitch is luring you to her house so her boyfriend can beat your ass or worse because of what you did to her cousin 6 months before. What? You've already forgotten that little bitch? Guess what. . .she hasn't forgotten you. She can point someone at your website and set up an interview just as easily as she did in the first place. THEN who's the miserable bitch?

Number two:
Don't assume anything! This kind of ties into the example I gave for number one. If you assume that hot little bitch you are going to interview at her house is just that. . .you may be in for a hell of a surprise. I made several assumptions about this episode. That she wasn't married. Then that her husband was dead. That my car would start. That Peter would buy my excuse for being there and so on. As it turns out, the only thing I was right about was my ability to lie my way out of the mess I found myself in. Always plan for the worst-case scenario, brothers!

Number three:
NEVER let a bitch see your car if you can help it! When meeting a bitch at a hotel, I will get the room, park the car on the other side of the hotel, walk to the room and then call the bitch to let her know what room I am in. Why not let a bitch see your car? What if you have a Phat ride? You don't know who that bitch knows. . .her sister might work at the DMV for all you know! Ivana could have easily taken down my tag number and might have been able to somehow track me down. Paranoid? This is WAR, brothers! You fight dirty, so do they! And what if your car doesn't start like mine? Then you are fucking STUCK in a situation that you might just rather not be in. Keep your car out of sight, brothers. That way, if you do break down you won't have some bitch hovering around you while you try to get the piece of shit started.

Three lessons and a nice bit of granny-fucking. I hope this trip on the miserable time machine to the dawn of The Fuck™ proves to be of value to someone out there, whether it is as practical preaching advice, strangely entertaining reading, jackoff fodder, or just head-shaking disgusted bewilderment at the strange man typing this. In any case, my job here is done for now.

Amen

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All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

Arthur Schopenhauer