Murugan: “I saw the ad. Is it really Gauthami? She looks so…so….
Me: “Sexy… Isn’t it? A little motivation and determination can do wonders.”
Murugan: “We need to meet in person. We need to discuss something.”
Me: “Sure, after the reopening and hopefully after I bang this aged chick.”
Murugan: “What are you saying. In Real?”
Me: “Let’s see. I will talk later. Bye”.
Evening, when I entered the home, Gauthami Patti was waiting for me with the designer bra and panty in her hand. The saree and the blouse are excellent. But this, Gowthami Paati looked at me in disbelief. “You want a woman in her sixties to wear this. I have never worn them,” throwing the designer bra and panties at me. Patti, they will make you feel youthful and comfortable while you work. Sweat patches on her armpits and fidgeting made me slyly grin at her. I just made her subconsciously aroused and curious.
“Just try it, Paati. If you don’t like it, I will return it”.
Slightly blushing, she scooped up the dress and went to her bedroom to change, and I could hear the lock falling in place. But it didn’t matter. The saree and the innerwear were too sophisticated. She will need my help soon. Sure enough, I saw the door unlock, and her head popped out
Gowthami: “Pera, how to wear this? Help me out.”
I went inside. The sight that beheld my eyes was something out of a porn movie. When I first met Gawthami Patti, I never imagined that this granny would turn out to be a GILF (Granny I Love to Fuck). Against the dim light, I could see the straps of her designer bra loosely worn over her shoulders. She had tried to wear the bra, but being cross-strapped, she could not clasp the hooks. She had crossed her arms to prevent me from getting a good view of her Tamil oranges. Her dusky back was shimmering in the dim light. Pavadai (Skirt) covered her body waist down. I clasped the bra and whispered in her ear.
Me: “Gowthami, you look gorgeous. I want to marry you”.
My hot breath down her neglected body and the depravity of my words made her shiver. Before she could process and turn around, I slowly undid her hair bun, letting her long white and black-streaked hair flow over her body, veiling her back up to her waist. The scent of her pheromones, sweat, and oil was enough to push me over the edge. I smoothly slid out my pants, exposing the hard tent in my boxers. I could sense the tremors in her body as I slowly rested over her shoulders from the back and cupped her now 34B ripe oranges. She spun around, glancing at my bulge before stammering
Gowthami: “Pera…. What are you…? I am so old…. Ashamed.”
Me: “Vithreya…. My name is Vithreya. You have been a widow for so long that you have forgotten the touch of a man. Tonight, It all changes. Tonight, you will be liberated, and this North Indian pervert grandson will be your new husband.”
Gowthami: “Vithreya……what are you saying. I love my husband. I am so old……No. I can’t,” was the only meek reply she could muster.
Me: “Shhisshh, my dear, no more talk.”