An Old Italian Nona

This happened in my late twenties. That was a fair time ago. This is the best I can remember it, so you have to bare with me.
A good mate of mine who had fixed me up with women in the past very successfully, contacted me. I was never very good at picking up women for casual sex but he had a gift. This time he had teed up someone he referred to as an “older woman” and that was fine by me but as I was in my late twenties I was expecting a woman in her say, forties. Anyway he had arranged for us to meet this person at a very sordid spot that I knew all too well in railway property that was over grown with lantana and if you required even more darkness and secrecy then you could go in under a bridge a little further on. We had met people there a couple of times before and I remember I used to secretly borrow my Dad’s (supposedly secret) girly magazines when I was in my late teens and go to this place to wank myself silly. I have often wondered since whether Mum knew about Dad’s girly magazines. He was always such a gentleman and so visions of dad out in the privacy of the garage, pulling on his pud furiously as he perved at these magazines is intriguing.
This particular spot of sexual depravity was frequented by other sexual deviates as well as the homeless, judging by the old mattresses, newspapers and beer bottles scattered about the place. It was beside an old “goods” (as we used to call it in those days) or freight railway line embankment and the occasional train would go past adding to the atmosphere. I have always loved such places whether for the occasional fuck in my younger days or just to explore. Despite being secluded from the street it was however exposed to the railway line and train crews looking down from their cabs could clearly see anyone carrying on but of course they were not going to stop their train to chastise some randy debauchers were they and so it was a perfect place.
I arrived at the agreed time and place early due I suppose to my eager randiness. After what seemed an age, I heard someone approaching through the bush. My mate finally emerged and with him was a woman who looked to be in her late sixties to early seventies. She was Italian and looked like most Italian grandmothers (“Nona” or plural “Nonas” I think is the term) did back then. I take that back actually, as (at the risk of generalising) most Italian grandmothers back then dressed in black peasant type garb and didn’t speak English all that well at all. You could occasionally hear one of them around the neighbourhood tearing a strip off some poor Italian hubby or other relative. This one was a little more with it and sported shortish black, salon coloured hair to disguise her age. She was nicely dressed (not in black) complete with a furry short coat and stylish purse or handbag I suppose it was and looked at me with a cautious but non committal look as one would have if waiting for a bus and not someone about to participate in carnal knowledge with a complete stranger or strangers.
Her English wasn’t all that good but far better than my Italian. My mate’s folks were Italian and so he spoke enough to be able to communicate with her. He explained to me that coitus wasn’t on the table and that she just wanted to suck us both off. I was a little disappointed as I really wanted to root someone or something being a randy young bloke at the time. On the other hand, I have never been one to refuse a blow job and this time was to be no different.
She broke into abrasive sounding Italian to him, gesturing to my crotch at sometime during the conversation. He turned to me and told me that she wanted to see my cock. Being only too willing, I opened my fly and pulled out my cock and smiled at her. Still no response from her facially although she came out with something else to him which he translated to “and your balls” to which she nodded. I suspected this woman’s grasp of English was better than I originally thought and that she was either lazy or wanted to keep her cards close to her chest. In any case, I took out my balls and proudly let them and my by now fully erect cock rest on the front of my shorts. She gestured and spoke to him in Italian and he explained that she wanted us both to take our shorts and undies off as she liked to see her men naked. The exhibitionist in both of us had no problem at all with that. In no time I was standing in the bright sunlight, naked from the waist down still with my shirt on as I was a skinny thing back then and fairly self conscious about it. My mate on the other hand was an olive skinned descendant of an Italian God and had the body to prove it. He had pecks you could crank nuts on and nipples and areolas the size of a twenty cent piece. There was still very little response from her except she put her hand bag down off to the side, the furry coat remaining on. I was hoping for a glimpse of some tits and nipples but that didn’t happen.
I couldn’t contain myself and moved my rampant tool over towards her as she went on in Italian about something or other to my mate as she ran her hands over his chest. I couldn’t fault her for that as I felt like doing the same to his tight skinned chest. A bit of latent homosexuality there I suppose but he did have a magnificent build.
As I arrived at her side, she abruptly finished her conversation with and her fondling of my mate and bent over at the waist, almost inspecting my tool or certainly looking at it closely before her lips closed around the knob, sort of kissing it into her mouth and then letting her lips slide off in a way that nearly made me pass out with pleasure. What a technique! To say it took me by surprise would be an understatement of mammoth proportions as my knees buckled with pleasure and I placed my hand on her shoulder to steady myself. It felt great but I still must have been wrestling with the grandmotherly age of this person. I just couldn’t imagine my Grandmother gobbling down on a cock, especially the way she did it and my Grandfather wasn’t around to ask. Also I am kidding myself that I would have had the courage to ask him anyway. Regardless, I recovered quickly and braced myself against the concrete bridge support we were standing beside and thrust out my hips and erect tool hoping for a repeat performance. She gestured a pulling action to me which was an instruction to me to start masturbating myself. In desperation for another slurping like the first one, I gestured, pointing to her mouth and then to my knob. She either didn’t understand or pretended not to and repeated her gesture that I should pull myself. Somewhat pissed off I complied and pulled on my angry looking tool. She had hold of my balls in no time and was massaging and rolling them around. I directed the tool towards her mouth as much as I could as she moved her mouth on and off the knob sporadically, mouthing away and putting her tongue out in preparation to catch anything that ushered forth from the eye of my tool.
I remember a goods train went past at one stage. I was too busy to see if the crew were looking but I remember that the exhibitionist in me didn’t mind being on display for all the world to see. “Look guys, I’m getting a blow job!”
There was pre-cum splashing about as the knob flailed back and forth under my hand’s assault and her tongue tried to gobble in as much as she could, as most of it flew off in all directions and down into the dirt beside us. She eventually gave up and just hovered there close to the knob waiting almost patiently for my cum to appear, her mouth and tongue catching the occasional drop of pre-cum that flew off that her lips tasted in before resuming their guard position waiting for more. The sight of her open mouth and tongue hovering was too much and I pushed the knob in and out of her mouth when I got the chance until the excitement was just too much for me and I exploded. She immediately pounced onto the knob in an effort not to let any of my jism escape.
She had gone from a reserved little Italian Grandma firmly in control of the situation that one would have observed in the street to a sex craved deviate, her desperation to lap up anything on offer overruling any shame she might have, slurping in cum like a little piglet gutsing down the feed before all of the other piggies.
I just kept wanking slowly in an effort to drain my tool and let her do what she wanted. I strained my groin muscles, managing another couple of dribbles and watched as she opened and closed her mouth trying to get as close to the knob as possible as it lay half in and half out of her mouth. She wallowed frantically in the slowing flow of pre-cum and jism flowing over her lips and down over her chin and appeared horrified that it was ending. Without looking, she reefed open the top of her blouse to perhaps avoid the cum etc staining it, either that or she wanted the jism to land on her breasts. Whichever it was, it was extremely horny to me at the time as I glimpsed her areolas and nipples peeping out of the top of her bra. Paying particular attention not to move my knob away from her mouth, I desperately stretched my fingers down to try to get to her nipples. My finger tips managed to fish the nipple out of her bra and I rolled between forefinger and thumb and pulled it out causing stretch marks on the soft skin of her tit. None of my striving down to her tit and its soft tantalizing flesh (that I had the overwhelming desire to lick and suck on) seemed to put her off her slurping and sucking of my glistening knob and its hot pre-cum and white hot jism bounty.
She didn’t seem to be swallowing the jism at all, I think she was just swept up in the animal lust of the whole act, letting the goo flow off her chin and down onto her chest and down between her breasts. She eventually resigned herself to the fact that I was done. I have never been a big cummer but I could manage two or three good spurts back then.
I was always envious of these guys who could spurt like a runaway fire hose spraying multiple jets of white hot cum all over the place seemingly endlessly, the bastards!
She planted her mouth entirely over my knob, swallowed the shaft to the halfway point and sucked, her head bobbing back and forth like a crazed pigeon along the veiny, knobbly shaft’s length for all she was worth until I was dry. I was sure I could feel my balls in my throat as I held her head and tried to get my tool all the way to her toes, in company with her squeezing my balls as if they were holding out on her. I felt like I was being milked as she pulled won on my sac. It reminded me later of those films you see of a cow being milked and kicking over the milking pail as the milker is being too rough with their udder and tits. There was a final a bit of gagging coming from her cock filled mouth and she casually discarded me, pushing me off almost contemptibly like some used sexual device.
I stood back and continued stroking my weakening tool and gazed down at the various gobs of my cream and pre-cum and saliva that had landed down between her freckly skinned cleavage as she had been slurping and gobbling as much as she could frantically before the flow stopped I suppose. She had half crouched and almost knelt in front of me and her legs were trembling slightly as the stain of trying to support herself was telling on her legs.
I can’t say she had a disappointed look on her face as it was mostly emotionless but she did seem to want more. Her gaze shifted to my mate who had been wanking himself out of pure horniness as he watched her devouring me. He didn’t seem worried that she appeared to be a ravenous piranha of a woman and might actually suck his dick clean off his body and so he stepped up to her face as she now knelt on the dusty ground.
Without even a second look up at me she slithered down on his tool briefly and then the assault on his knob began. As godlike as his body was and even with his fairly handsome good looks he was just a lamb to the slaughter as her mouth loitered, tongue extended, waiting for his cum to be ejaculated out of his full, tightly skinned, engorged purple knob and when it did she pounced on it gobbling the cum up as if it was gold and she didn’t want a drop to escape her gapping mouth and slurping lips.
She put her arm around his thigh to steady herself and he put his hand on her head and held his tool, tightly clenched in his fist, up to her mouth as he wanked himself. Between her tongue lapping at his tool, she was saying something in Italian that sounded like encouragement. I didn’t get any encouragement! Other than that, the routine was the same for him and she soon had his balls in her hand and was hovering in front of his tool with the ever present tongue extended out in the cum catching position. She was still trebling and adjusting her crouch as she hovered. I think it wasn’t so much having tired legs or thigh muscles as she had now risen to a crouch like an expectant duck in front of him, but more sexual frenzy and her eager desire to gobble and slurp on his tool and hot cum.
I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her hubby. Was he still with us? Was he not enough for her? Had she worn the poor bastard out? Considering her voracious sexual appetite, had she sucked or fucked the poor devil to death? I suppose there are worse ways to go. Looking down at her open mouth I couldn’t help but wonder how many cocks had been in there before me.
My mate had come fairly quickly. A great disgusting (jealousy on my part) viscous glob of cum appeared out of the eye of his knob and hung there, dangling down like lumpy jelly (did I mention it was disgusting), threatening to plummet down into the dust if not by its own weight then due to his wanking action jarring it loose. She wasn’t having any of that and her mouth and tongue were quickly positioned under the dag just as it dropped. It landed sticky on her tongue and she devoured the thick jism. Her saliva mixed with the cum, her lips and tongue tasting it before allowing it to run out of her mouth once more, with a barely discernable (albeit brief) look of satisfaction, quickly replaced by that ever present look of desperation on her face and eager look around for more.
Now that I remember it today, her lips reminded me of Hannibal Lecter’s description of eating liver with some “fava beans and nice Chianti” followed by that terrifying slurping sound that he does so well. Similarly to when she sucked me, she wasn’t so much swallowing all of the cum but more letting it into her mouth only to run back out and down her chin and onto her chest or the ground before she slurped at the knob for more to do the same.
My tool had managed to regain an erection due to the horniness of the situation and eager to participate, I whacked and wiped it on her shoulder and her neck hoping she might suck down on it if his dick weakened. Sadly that didn’t happen so I settled for rubbing it back and forth on whatever part of her that I could reach, before she finished with him and slowly rose to her feet (like the grandma she probably was) with assistance from both of us. Yet again and despite our smiles she said something to him in Italian and with an emotionless almost grumpy look on her face, grabbed her purse and disappeared, staggering awkwardly in her heeled shoes down the rough path into the bush and away.