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Epilogue
“That’s it,” I croak, brushing her peachy locks from her forehead. They’re much sparser than they were when we met, but I love her just the same. “Such a good goose for Freddikins.”
Story chokes around my flapjack and blinks up at me with teary eyes. Her tongue swirls around my shaft just the way I like it, and I groan.
“Christ,” I whisper-hiss. “I’m almost there, bed bug.”
She pops off my dick, shooting me a glare. “You daid dat tweny minude ago.”
It takes me a second to realize what she’s trying to say, but when I do, I frown and pat her head in apology. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m not as virile as I was when I was a young buck.”
With a huff, she swallows me back down, taking my moderately hard pecker to the back of her smooth, warm mouth. My head falls onto the orthopedic pillow as pleasure sludges through my old veins. Her boney fingers prod at my puckered back entrance, pressing down on the butterfly plug we still love to share even after all these years.
“Oh, fuck me and call me Rumplestillskin!” I cry out. “That’s the ticket!”
A few small spurts of luke-warm spunk sputter from my already softened joystick, but my orgasm is still just as incredible as it was when I was twenty. It always is when my woman’s mouth is wrapped around me, her sagging sacks swaying between my thighs.
It takes me a moment to catch my breath, but when I do, I shove myself into a sitting position. Story is between my legs, staring at me expectantly, and I give her a soft smile.
“You did so good,” I praise, brushing tears from her wrinkled cheek. She’s so fucking beautiful. “You ready?”
She bobs her head eagerly. I press a quick kiss on her forehead and roll over, grabbing our supplies from the bedside table. Holding the shot glass to her lips, I give her a command that makes shivers run down my spine. “Spit.”
I watch enthralled as my cum drips into the glass. A string of saliva falls to her chin and I catch it with my thumb and bring it to my lips, sucking it dry.
Story moans, and I shoot her a wink. She gives me a gummy grin that melts my heart. I reach back to the nightstand, passing her the second glass. She quickly fishes her dentures out and pops them into her mouth.
“Let’s do this,” she says, her voice raspy from age and use. “We have to be quick before it goes bad.”
“You’re right.”
I help her to her back and grab a few pillows, gently tucking them under her hips. Once she’s in position with her thin thighs spread wide, I pick up the turkey baster and suction my cum from the spittoon. I flick it a few times, releasing the air bubbles, then coat the plastic tip with fertility friendly lube.
“Here we go, bed bug!” I swim the baster through the air while making train noises, reveling in the giggle that falls from my girl’s lips. “Choo-choo, here comes Daddy’s baby batter, all yummy and cummy for your tummy!”
“Oh my God, Fred!” She croaks out a harsh laugh more befitting of a lifetime smoker than my sweet woman, but it’s probably just from choking on my hog for a half hour. “Just do it already!”
I scoff, pressing the tip into her shriveled hole. “You never used to rush me like this.”
“Well, excuse me for being in pain!”
I grimace at the reminder of her recent hip replacement surgery. The whole reason we’re doing things the artificial way instead of biblically. There's no way she could handle me poking her with the one-eyed monster when it takes me so long to finish.
I work the baster in as deep as I can get it and squeeze the end, filling her womb with my fishies. I shoot a prayer up to whoever’s listening. Hopefully it takes this time.
“Besides,” she grumbles, adjusting her glasses. “I’m almost seventy, so this is probably a waste of time.”
I drop the empty baster to the bed and prop her hips up higher so my junk can get where it needs to go. When she's comfortable, I crawl next to her, wrapping her up in my arms.
“You heard what the doc said,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You never went through menopause. You’re a medical mystery. You could still be fertile, and if you aren’t, so be it.”
She sniffles, rubbing her face across my sagging peck. “If I’m not, I’ll be so sad.”
“I know, baby.” I will be, too. “But we’ve lived a good life, haven’t we?”
“Of course we have!” She wails, sobbing against me. “It’s been the best life I could have ever imagined. We have wonderful kids and the grandchildren are perfect. DNF is doing amazingly. Sarah just opened the new store in Guatemala, you know? It’s so pretty.” She sniffles, wiping her snot across my chest. “I’m just sad for it to be over.”
Wanting to comfort her, I snag a quilt from the end of the bed, tucking it around us both and kiss her again.
