Sometimes you see something that is truly lovely to look at. I was lucky enough to experience one such vision as I took a shortcut through the back streets of Sydney’s upper North Shore. It was brief, very brief, as I had to concentrate on driving but there, running or it might have been jogging, was this young woman, late teens or early twenties, dressed in a light cheese cloth type textured top and shorts tracing out her delightfully cute little arse. This young woman was small, about 5’2” or 5’3”of slight build – not skinny but not voluptuous, probably classed as fit but with good sized breasts, between large oranges and a small grapefruit. What made this vision so pleasant was that, as she ran, her tits jiggled or wobbled about in her filmy, light material top, seemingly uncontrolled and unrestrained by a bra. She made it even better by slyly looking down checking out how her tits were wobbling as she ran. In my humble opinion, that is the sign of a relative innocent, inexperienced woman. More experienced worldly women never check out their tits in public, they have already checked out the bounce and how they look at home in front of a mirror but this young woman was looking at hers as she ran and was probably thinking “hey, they’re alright!’ or perhaps “hmmm, do they look alright?” and her’s was a concerned look and so perhaps the later.

Now this all happened in a brief second or two as I drove past in the other direction and was made even more difficult to view by the cars that were parked beside the road and very close together, obstructing my vision, as this was near the local shopping centre and railway station. It was all over in an instant and I continued on about my business, arriving home some time later. As is my custom when I see such a sight, I sat down and had a mighty wank as I remembered her tits wobbling around and how much I would have liked to fondle them for her, savouring the softness of them as I squeezed them like little beans bags of fun. I wasn’t sure whether I would have liked them naked or still wrapped in their cheesecloth top, I went for the cheesecloth and blew my load accordingly, straining with ear popping satisfaction. It was one of those orgasms that make you feel like your gonads are going to appear in your throat. I then got on with the rest of my day.

The following day I awoke to the dawn glow but it was too early to get up, so still lying down nice and warm in bed with my eyes closed, I took hold of a handful of my flaccid tool and balls and played with myself until my erection appeared and took over my hand’s full attention causing my balls to loose out. All of this fondling was to the vision in my mind of this young woman and her tits wobbling delightfully as she danced down the street. Ooooh, definitely cold shower material except I didn’t want to loose my erection to cold water anyway and so I continued enjoying myself. I had hit my left hand with a hammer as I tried to cold chisel the head off a stubborn screw the previous day and it hurt like hell when I tried to use it. Despite it hurting I still played with myself but my right hand had to do most of the work. I am right handed but I like to change it around and use my left as the old saying goes “use your left hand! It feels like someone else is playing with you”. It’s amazing what pain the adult male will endure to feel his tool hardening up.

The whole episode of this young woman’s wobbling tits reminded me of a similar one some years ago now, actually about eight or nine years ago, now that I think about it. I had just retired and settled into the relatively quiet retired activity of working on the maintenance of the house and garden. There I was one day watering my garden when a young woman jogged past on the other side of the street. It was one of those moments that make you realise that being retired isn’t all that bad. She had a nice body and was (as I found out later) in her early twenties. Trying not to be too obvious I watched her sneakily out of the corner of my eye and then continued on with the gardening, making a mental note of the time and resolving in my lecherous, dirty old man way to be there tomorrow morning to see if she jogged past again. The following morning I got comfortable and sat with my cup of tea watching from the front window of the house, through the lace curtains to mask my perving activities. Sure enough she ran past again roughly about the same time. She had a nice body and looked fit with good sized tits for her slender frame and very similar to the vision I had experienced just a few day ago. Her jogging went on fairly regularly over the next few weeks and on my spare days I tried to vary my activities, sometimes perving through the front curtains and sometimes actually standing holding the garden hose or digging in the front garden. She usually ran down the other side of the street but on a few occasions she ran past my front fence. I didn’t try to hide my looking at her as she did so and nodded politely. Sometimes she would be wearing a sports bra I think it is called and would have her tits strapped flat onto her chest (I don’t see what’s sporting about that) much to my disappointment but occasionally she would have her tits wobbling around with probably not even a normal bra on.

On the occasions of her tits wobbling around I tried to pretend subtlety and sort of look over the top of my glasses at her tits and her body in general. I wanted her to know that I was looking at her in a sexual perverty sort of way.

One morning she jogged to a standstill right in front of me and my garden fence and said “hello Mr Johnson (not my real name)”. She knew my name?! I think my mouth must have dropped open as I was taken aback as they say. She definitely had me at a disadvantage. She continued “do you remember me? I’m Michaela Smith (you guessed it, Smith was not her real name and I am not even positive about the spelling of the first name). I knew her parents from ten or fifteen years ago and so this was little Michaela all grown up and in all the right ways. She also had very sexy eyes and they sort of flashed as she looked me straight in the eyes in a very horny way.

Young women (in particular) know that old men are lecherous and like looking at their bodies at anytime of the day. Some look away as their mothers probably taught them but others who are well in control of their surroundings look at you with “come hither and root me” eyes that flash at you seductively. Anyway this one knew she was well in control of her surrounding and it was really very much erection material for me and my undies were probably well lubricated (shale we say swimming in) with pre-cum. We chatted about things in general and she told me that her mother now lived in Melbourne and her father still lived down the road from me where she had grown up and where the family originally lived until the divorce. Michaela now spent most of her time living in Melbourne close to her mother but occasionally stayed with her dad for extended periods of which this was one. There was a bit of a silence and so she bid me farewell with a “well, I had better keep going” and continued on her run. I watched her, perving at her arse until it disappeared around the corner out of sight. She turned and gave a little wave as she turned the corner and caught me still looking. Being a woman she would have known I was perving at her and her arse in particular. It’s so much more horny to perve at an arse when you have been talking to its gorgeous owner mere seconds before. Wild images of rubbing my tool up between those lovely young buns flashed through my dirty old man’s mind until I calmed down and got on with whatever I was doing.

Over the next few weeks I saw her occasionally and one of those times she once again stopped on the other side of my front fence hedge. We exchanged the usual pleasantries and I asked after her parents. She didn’t talk much about them and so I let sleeping dogs lie and struggled desperately for a different subject.
She rescued the situation and changed the subject to my garden and the flowers in particular. She pointed out one or two that she really liked and I explained that I had grown a few of them from cuttings and had a few just starting to flower in the greenhouse if she wanted one. She said that she had an appointment soon after her run that day so I suggested that she drop in tomorrow on her way home from her run so that she wouldn’t have to carry the plant with her on the run which made sense. She seemed delighted with that idea and she continued on her way and yes I did perve at her arse as she left. This day was one of her sports bra days and I was hoping tomorrow would be a “tits swinging free” day. I wasn’t disappointed.

The next day rolled around and I heard a knock at the door and there she was hot and sweaty after her run, standing at the front door with that “well here I am” look on her face that some women get when they know they have control of the situation and the pathetic guy standing in front of them. This woman has eyes and a look that only a few women have when they are actively flirting or are interested in you. The look makes me want to pull her down then and there and have my old guy way with her as she observes, (with a bemused look on her face,) the pathetic male who due to his animalistic behaviour inherited from his cave man ancestors slobbers and writhes all over her naked body.

I have noticed before that women like to watch me with that same bemused look (that says somewhat sarcastically “don’t mind me, just help yourself”) as I busy myself exploring, fondling, licking and sucking on all and sundry like a kid with some many toys and not knowing where to start.

In this instance I managed to control myself but I was tingling with sex. We adjourned to the greenhouse and I think she was impressed with the plants. Despite looking as much as I could in her in the face I couldn’t help but look at her tits especially as the green house was hot and if she wasn’t already sweating due to her running then the greenhouse was certainly making her shirt top stick to her tits. She commented on the heat in the green house and pulled the material of her top forward off her sweaty tits to cool herself off but it fell back immediately and clung to them once again. I could see the different colours of her areolas as I brazenly looked at her tits like the pathetic male I am. She caught me doing it once or twice (I lingered intentionally long) before my gaze shifted quickly back up to her face. She pulled her singlet top up a millimetre or two in an half hearted token effort to conceal her tits from my gaze. We both had a bemused look on our faces as we could both see the futility of her actions as I glanced once more down at her rack. She apologized with something like “oh I’m sorry Mr Johnson. I am sorry if I am embarrassing you but I don’t wear a bra when I jog past a fellow down the street who is a pervert (there’s another one besides me in this street!?) as I like to give him a cheap thrill.” That was a chance I wasn’t going to let go as she was obviously flirting. I told her not to worry as I don’t mind looking at a good looking woman’s breasts anytime.

I think I got the “oh, Mr Johnson!” exclamation at that point or whatever it was, it was false embarrassment on her part as she knew full well the effect her tits were having on me and my penis. She had moved really close to me in an effort to inspect the plant I had promised her. Her tits were so close and one of them couldn’t have been more than an inch away from my arm. She pushed closer supposedly to see the plant and her tit squashed into my arm. It wasn’t a slight brush of my arm but rather she pushed into me as if it wasn’t her tit at all but just any part of her body and that we were old friends that brushed up against each other on a regular basis. It was so delightful and I could feel the sweaty heat of her soft breast on my skin which made it even more so.

I don’t specifically know what happens to penises at times like that but seemingly there must be litres (probably not quite that much considering your average penis, unless you are a horse or a donkey or me that is) of blood being pumped into them and they must also be trying to desperately to burst though the front of the guys’ pants in order to get at the woman. I know, as all guys do, that uncomfortable feeling when your gear is trying to straighten itself out from its coiled state down in the darkness of your hot, sweaty, wet undies and you would dearly like to reach down the front of your pants to rearrange everything but can’t as it is not socially acceptable.

I looked down at her cleavage as she stood beside me feigning interest in the plant and I pushed back against her tit. She looked up into my face from down at her 5’2” height, with a devilish smile on her face that said “look, I know you want to put your hand on my boob”, took my hand and placed it on her deliciously rounded tit. My hand instinctively closed around her lovely breast in ecstasy that nearly made me pass out. I am an old guy don’t forget and there is my blood pressure to consider as well. Her tit was warm and soft and and and ….well, you know….words fail me. It formed beautifully, plump and round in her sweat soaked top. Every time I released my hand from her magnificent orb it returned to its magnificent original shape with a wobble before my next onslaught. Nothing was said, there was dead silence in that hot greenhouse. I took her hand and placed it on the sausage shaped lump in the front of my pants that enclosed my penis in all its erect glory as it fought frantically against the bounds of its material prison to achieve its menacing phallic juggernaut form and to point straight at this excellent young woman’s body. She took a hold of my whole cluster of balls and cock or as much as her tiny hand could hold and proceeded to rub it up and down and side to side, rolling penis and balls around, looking up at my face to wallow in the pleasure she was bestowing on me which was considerable I have to say. I couldn’t restrain myself and placed my hand between her legs and reciprocated her efforts on her plump little twat, squeezing and kneading her. I could see her breathe in deeply and push against my hand even more. She pushed her hand on top of mine to increase the pressure on her vagina, thrusting her hips forward as the animal in her came to the fore, prompting me to squeeze harder to the point of pain for me at least as my arthritic hand was starting to hurt. That drove my dirty old man lusting index through the roof; I wanted to feel her plump little twat in the flesh and the pain in my hand was going to have to suck it up!

My fingers sort out the elastic waist band of her knickers and pressed between it and the warm silky delightfully soft flesh of her belly, slipping on down between her legs to cup the bald plump vulva lips of her vagina, a finger slid between them and into her moist crack, before penetrating her warm slippery little hole. She was gasping and started to breathe more heavily and grabbed my arm as my finger slid in and out like a piston rod. I stopped and apologised for hurting her. She corrected my false impression saying something like “oh no, that was good! Do that again”. I checked out through the doorway to see if anyone could see us and shut the greenhouse door slightly to cover our debauchery. She chastised me and told me to leave it open as it added to her excitement. I obeyed my sexual little fox and struggled to reach and open the, now almost out of range, door again as I mounted her leg, rubbing the bulge in my pants up against the side of her thigh in slow deliberate, hip gyrating, wiping thrusts. I held onto her far shoulder and pulled her into me, enveloping her, my hand still buried in her panties, exploring and squeezing her twat in sync as I rocked rhythmically and humped into her leg, almost bear hugging her. I looked over the top of her head out the door to see if we were indeed able to be seen but we were a fair way from the otherwise quiet, tall tree covered street anyway. In all of my concern she had been busy trying to push me off enough to undo my pants. I ceased my disgustingly unsophisticated humping of her leg so that the little darling could access my tool. She unzipped me and pulled out my pre-cum saturated cock. It sprang out abruptly from my pants flinging pre-cum though the air to land on the greenhouse bench and flowers, a clear string like strand even landing on her arm. My tool stood up hard and veiny and slightly blood red like a rampant lion looking for something to devour. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. Even as I pulled her pants down and off she stepped out of her pants still looking at my stiff, hard, blood red phallus. She picked up an old rag from the bench, gave it a shake to rid it of cobwebs and proceeded to wipe my tool and balls of some of the pre-cum before looking up seemingly for praise having done a good job of cleaning me up.

I lifted her up onto the greenhouse bench prompting a little “ooo!” from her, and a dusty bench it was too. The state of the bench didn’t seem to bother her as I stood beside her, my arm around her shoulder. I used my hand to spread her legs and fingered her twat a few more times before concentrating on her clit. I tried clumsily to pull up her top with my free hand and rest it on the top of her tits. Almost impatiently she peeled the top off and sat there completely naked except for her runners. I had to stand back and admire the mind swirling sight before me. I am an old bloke don’t forget, I could have passed out with lust! She was brown all over; she must have olive skin as there were no bikini strap marks anywhere. Her body was firm and full, what you would expect of someone her age. Her body was so delightfully perfect that I could feel my cock getting even harder to the point of being painful, but I didn’t mind.

Her nipples were erect (I like a good sized nipple but not too big) and stood out hard. Her tits were magnificent; the top of them sloped in slightly down her chest before they arrived at her areolas and nipples giving the tits that jutting out look. The areolas were ever so slightly raised and puffy above the surface of their tit and the nipples, as I said, were a nice size and just begging to be sucked. She sat (a devilish look on her face) with her shoulders back, thrusting out her chest to show off her rack to the poor pathetic male under her control. Her thighs were fit looking and yet padded like a woman’s thighs ought to be. I opened her legs and bent down and licked up the inside of each thigh.

I kissed and licked the sweat off the roundness of each of her breasts before sucking down on the nearest nipple, slipping a finger between those plump lips to massage her clit in a slow merciless fashion, stunned in wonderment at the sight of her plump lips forming around my finger as it slid and gyrated around on her slippery clit. She had placed her arm back to support herself on the bench and was throwing her head back and thrusting out her chest to give me access to her tits, allowing me to suck on those delicious orbs; I couldn’t get close enough to this woman’s body. Damn it! Men are disgusting animals! I could feel the bumpiness of my shaft in her tiny hand as it ran up and down the full length, stopping briefly to torment the knob before plunging down the rippling shaft again dragging the foreskin back and forth over the knob, the occasional splash of pre-cum flying off the end of the foreskin with each plunge. My assault on her clit had graduated to a full on finger assault of her wet hole as with one or two fingers inserted, my hand slapped mercilessly into her plump twat lips at a frenzy pace. She was leaning back, her mouth open, “aaahhing” with each slap until the aaahging merged into a continuous flow as my slapping increased. There followed by a brief silence and then a stunted scream as she climaxed (squeezing my tool hard as she did so), ending off with a short panting session.

I raised my hand from between her legs eager to get to her tits but she gasped out a quiet “don’t stop!” with a look of dismay on her face. We were going for a second orgasm it seemed but my back was killing me (I am an old guy don’t forget) and so I dropped to my knees between her legs but not before dropping a piece of foam rubber (another old guy necessity) I use for gardening onto the floor. I presented my face to her hot wet box and kissed her plump lips. She wasn’t in the mood for such niceties. She grabbed my head, positioned it in front of her snatch, tightened her grip on the back of my head and pushed my face into her crotch. It was dark in there as she ground her twat all over my face. I felt her lips wipe across my nose. It fell into her crack briefly before continuing on its way brushing across the other lip as her hands guided my head around her groin area. She leant back on one hand to support herself, just lying back, her other hand on the back of my head holding it in place and her legs gripped the sides of my head so much so that my hearing came and went from muffled back to full sound and then back to muffled as she tensed and relaxed her thighs as if she was using my head to fuck her twat. Breathing became a little difficult at one stage and I had to pull back, take a gasp and then plunge my head back into its warm dark nest between her legs. When she allowed, I resumed my munching on her clit, my eyes making a very close inspection of her short pubes, my finger just below my chin poking her hot slippery hole at the same time. I had taken over the pulling on my tool as it dangled down somewhere down there between my legs.

I have never been an avid cunnilingus type of guy but this was more of a case of her wiping her twat all over may face, with me seizing the chance when I could of sucking (more slobbering over) her labia lips and licking and nibbling on her clit. It didn’t take long and I felt her tense up, her hands and legs tightening their grip on my head followed by a brief period of silence and then a pressured scream once more. She pulled my head out from between her legs and gasped out that she couldn’t do that again and I was to stop. I didn’t mind and was glad of a rest and took the chance to wipe her juices off my face.

So there is this gorgeously naked young thing sprawled back on her hands, her box beckoning. I hauled her legs up and around my waist and flopped my tool onto her lovely little twat, thrusting my hips forward, driving the shaft up and down over her lips. She took my phallus in hand, inserted me and let out a little squeal of pleasure as I drove it quickly into her up to the hilt. A minute or two of frenzied animalistic thrusts into her warm wet hole and I couldn’t contain my orgasm any longer, filling her with my hot jism. I listened to the squishing sound of our juices as my shaft continued to penetrate her in those final desperate twitching thrusts of orgasmic pleasure. I strained every muscle in my groin striving to fill her completely before withdrawing, - the tool flopping down spent and loosing hardness by the second, - to watch our juices run disgustingly back out of her hole and drip from her twat lips onto the dirt floor. She didn’t seem to be out of breath at all, such is the advantage of youth I suppose. She pulled her top down to cover her tits and I dusted off her buns of potting mix before she pulled on her pants and continued on her way around her circuit of the local streets. Whether she bothered giving the other pervert a cheap thrill I don’t know, but she did come back later for her plant.

After that and when she returned every so often to visit her father, she occasionally dropped in when doing her jog. I’d like to say that it was for a root but mostly it was for a chat and I didn’t mind that either. Sometimes, if I asked nicely, I got a hand job around the side of the house. As she stroked me, she would tickle and gently scratch her nails along under my scrotum as she looked up into my face with that vixen like grin. She was such a tease! That certainly helped my excitement, not that it needed that much assistance, then as she could tell my orgasm was imminent, the stroking would increase, foreskin flapping, pre-cum flying off in all directions on the downstroke and plum coloured knob exposed in all its shiny glory on the “up” and she would gently squeeze my balls in a pulsating action in an attempt to milk as much cum out of my ancient balls as she could. I am not sure if that is the way it works but hey who was I to criticize. I think she liked watching me spurt judging by the fascinated look on her face as I blew, bless her, and at her insistence, we had to do it around the side of the house (albeit at the end of a long tree shaded drive way) in possible view of the street as she liked the excitement aspect. It was like a hobby for her and who was I to deprive her of her hobby and there was the side benefit that I got to play with her tits as she attended to me. I still get a stirring in my groin when I think about her.