Category: older men

The Dealer

The Dealer

She’d only worked in the casino a few weeks before he came in. In his sixties, white hair, white goatee beard, a little overweight but still somewhat distinguished in a professorial way. He’d play a little roulette, maybe push a few coins into the slot machines, then come over to her blackjack table. On the first night she dealt him the cards, he played conservatively. Small bets, saying “stand” when he was well away from twenty one, not daring too much. Then he came back a few evenings later and his bets started to go up into the hundreds instead of twenties. He was winning a little, but not a big sum. Then he came back a few nights later and suddenly the bets were getting much much bigger. He’d start wagering over a thousand on a single hand. At the same time, he was winning more consistently. Always leaving the casino with more than he started with.

She knew the casino management had surveillance on all the tables so it was no surprise when the floor manager called her in at the end of her shift. “That old dude with the white beard. Do you think he’s counting cards?” She sat in a chair and thought for a moment before she looked up to the manager’s face which looked pale in the stark white, neon lit office. “Counting cards? I don’t think think so.” The manager seemed not to be satisfied. “Does he show any emotion? Smile at you maybe? Maybe look to see if you’re suspicious?” She was sure about this answer. “He never speaks, never looks at me. He plays for half an hour, maybe an hour, then leaves. Doesn’t say a word.”

The man with the white beard didn’t appear for a whole week after that. It was like he knew the casino was watching him. When he finally did appear again, he went straight to her blackjack table. As usual, he didn’t look at her, but she noticed he had a much bigger pile of chips than usual to play with and over the course of the next hour he started making bets that dwarfed his previous gambling. Not only did he make the big bets but he was winning big too. So big, a small crowd of onlookers gathered at the side of the table as he pushed ten thousand, twenty thousand, even fifty thousand towards the dealer and managed to consistently beat the house.

She wasn’t surprised when he decided enough was enough and suddenly got up and took his piles of chips to cash them in. When her shift ended, she knew she’d have to answer more questions before she left for the night. Sure enough, she ended up in the floor managers office again answering his questions under the same bleaching neon light. “So you didn’t see anything? Maybe something like a hearing aid? Maybe he looked up at someone signaling to him? Or had some device in his pocket.” She hadn’t seen anything suspicious and she said so but the manager looked upset about the money they had lost to the man with the white goatee. Before she left the room, he leaned over her and spoke a little menacingly. “When that old dude comes in again, we’re going to take him down. He was too good. Something’s not right.”

As she rode the bus back out into the sprawling suburbs, she looked out of the window into the blackness of the city and the dots of lights inside the homes and apartments they passed. It was an okay job being a dealer, she thought. The people put the money and the table, she put the cards on the table. For a brief few seconds they were filled with feelings of hope and expectation which was quickly followed by either a feeling of elation at winning, or more often, a feeling of self-loathing and sadness for losing so stupidly. She delivered emotions when she turned over those cards, just like a movie or a piece of music could do. For a few brief minutes, the movement of her hand as she took the cards from the shoe made those gamblers feel alive. It was a better existence than the one she had just a year ago. Escaping her creepy stepfather, trying to make the rent on a cockroach infested apartment,  lending money to douche-bag boyfriends her own age that fucked you and left you, getting off your head with drugs to forget about it all. No, this was a better existence.

The bus came to a stop and she got off. She walked in a loop around a block of houses, then caught the same number bus going in the opposite direction for two blocks. As she got on the second bus, she looked around to see if anyone was following her. It was habit. She liked to be careful.

She got off the second bus just a couple of stops later and walked down a shabby suburban street until she came to a modest family house at the end. The garden looked untended with overgrown grass and there was a “For Rent” sign on a wooden pole near the driveway. She walked up to the front door, took out a key and let herself in. Inside, she walked up the stairs and could see a light coming from the half open bathroom door and she could hear the sound of the shower running inside. In the hallway, she took off all her clothes then walked into the steam filled bathroom. She opened the door to the large shower cubicle and stepped inside. The water was hot and refreshing on her naked body. She put her arms around the person who was already in the shower, pressed her body against him and hugged him tightly as the water poured over her.

She just hugged him in the shower without saying anything for what seemed like five minutes. She felt warm and safe with her body against his and she was in no hurry to change position. Finally, she spoke. “I see they’ve put a “For Rent” sign up. Where will we go next?” He looked down into her eyes. “I thought maybe the Darwin Casino” he replied, as he caressed her soaked hair. She was surprised. “Australia? Oh wow, I’ve always wanted to go there. But first…” she got the soap and started lathering and then stroking his cock which was already half-erect. “First, I want to suck your cock while you count out loud the winnings I dealt you tonight. Hearing the sound of paper money being counted always makes me horny. But no sneaky cumming in my mouth, okay you pervert? I want to be well and truly fucked before you shoot your load. And don’t you think you should shave off that white goatee beard, old man? I like it when it tickles my pussy but we don’t want every casino in the world recognizing it, right?” He laughed and kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll leave for the airport in the morning, my sweet little girl.”

Some extras from Crypto-Love.

Some extras from Crypto-Love.

The Checkout Chick

The Checkout Chick

Music is the food of love. Or is food the music of love? She thought the latter. Food had always been an obsession for her. Not in a bad way. Not in the sense of eating disorders or gluttony. But in the sense that she just loved food in all it’s forms. It was therefore only natural that she should want to become a food scientist. Being a dietician or a chef had their attractions but food scientists have way more impact on people’s everyday lives. Every ready-to-eat dish, every scoop of ice cream, every delicious cookie. There was a white coated food scientist in a sterile lab somewhere, working out exactly how to make these treats on an industrial scale, yet so that every mouthful would still taste like it came fresh from your mom’s kitchen. They were geniuses in her estimation and she wanted to count herself among their ranks as soon as she was old enough to understand that this lofty profession existed.

But the trouble with being a food scientist is you first have to study food science and that meant the long arduous slog of getting an undergraduate degree. She was well into her second undergraduate year when she found that one of the unexpected side effects of her course

is understanding exactly what goes into many of the products that you hitherto had never spent a moment of hesitation moving from plate to watering mouth. When she started to glimpse the hidden world of factory food processing, her dietary habits swung inexorably towards the purity of vegan eating. Only legumes, vegetables and their derivatives could blot out the nauseous insights she had gained about what most of the civilized population were putting in their stomachs everyday.

Along with this swing to plant based nutrition came an accompanying swing towards sexual partners who appreciated the finer points of beluga lentils and Peruvian quinoa. When fellow students asked her out on a date, her first response had become a gentle inquiry about where they were thinking of grabbing a bite This was a interrogative filter few could pass. No matter how good looking the guy, no matter how tight his pecs, abs or ass were, no matter how kissable his lips seemed, a reply of Pizza Hut or Chipotle would find her suddenly remembering she had to finish an important paper by Monday so she’s really sorry but maybe another time. Maybe in a decade or so? The way to a man’s heart might be through his stomach but the way to a horny food scientist’s pussy is knowing what amaranth is and where it’s cooked to perfection.

It was half way through her second year of college when she got the part-time gig of being a supermarket checkout cashier. The money wasn’t amazing but the hours were good and best of all she could come face to face with the buyers of what her intended profession created. Freshman year job’s flipping burgers and waiting tables had given her one view of food’s end user, but they seemed like niche markets compared with the cornucopia of manufactured foodstuffs offered by a large supermarket.

The strange thing about operating a cash register is that you have this minute or so of very personal interaction with someone you don’t know. On the one end hand you engage in some idle chit chat while you scan their purchase and on the other hand you can see exactly who they are in the socioeconomic scheme of things and what they are putting into their body.

The chit chat ran the gamut from a minimal polite greeting up to surprisingly personal discussions about ailments and domestic problems. Younger customers and busy working people kept to the minimal salutations while older people with time on their hands seemed eternally grateful for those few seconds of social exchange . She guessed that those brief interactions over her scanner screen was perhaps the only direct contact with another human some of her older customers might have that day.

Apart from the verbal exchanges, the other interesting part about the job was comparing what food people bought to the kind of people they appeared to be. Students tended to buy cheap filling food like rice and pasta. No surprises there. Busy-looking males in suits bought ready-meals and wine. Middle-class women with kids bought pretty much the whole spectrum. And retired people bought a lot of preserves and biscuits. Evidently getting older meant increasing sugar consumption. She wondered sometimes if she should point out to the middle-aged executive with a paunch that the high saturated fat levels plus excess salt and sugar in the microwaveable meals he was buying was a sure short-cut to high blood pressure, cardiovascular disease, diabetes and early death but the risk of being fired made her keep her own counsel. And besides, it was the ironic sign of a true wealthy democracy that anyone was allowed to eat any junk that food companies managed to get away with supplying. It was also sad that the store acted like a Fentanyl wholesaler, unconcerned about the fate of the product’s end-users.

But where were the vegans? They were few and far between. It was her third week on the register when she really became aware of Andrew. Well she didn’t actually know his name but he really reminded her of an older porn actor called Andrew who sometimes featured in those videos featuring much older men with young women like herself. Damn, they were hot. She hadn’t really considered older men that attractive until her random tumblr browsing landed her on an age-gap blog which was full of gifs and stories about men more than old enough to be her father fucking young girls like herself. She’d never been so wet as when she looked at that smut. Not masturbating to it and having an intense orgasm wasn’t really an option. When the tumblr blogs weren’t strong enough for climax any more, she could be found alone in her dorm room. fingering herself to the free streaming age-gap movies you could find on the Internet. It never failed to get her off to see those hard old cocks penetrate a young tight pussy but she had locked the association between pleasure and age-gap sex away in the back of her mind as just pure fantasy that she’d never experience in real-life, let alone tell anyone about.

The came Andrew. The first time they spoke, she said hello without looking up. She’d had a mid-term exam that day and it was near to closing time so she wasn’t wild about putting a fake smile on her face. A middle aged voice said hello back as she scanned the contents of his cart. Giant wholemeal couscous; good choice as carbohydrates. Block of silken tofu; this was going in the right direction. Ecological black rice from Italy; great taste, lots of antioxidants. In fact, everything she was scanning screamed vegan purity. Finally, she looked up to match the shopping to the face and there he was. Around 60, well proportioned, thinning gray hair. He smiled back at her after he punched in his pin code. She was hooked.

After that, she started to look out for him every evening and felt a little sad if she hadn’t spotted him in at least one register, even if it wasn’t hers. When she glimpsed him a couple of customers back in her line, her heart fluttered a little with anticipation. Anticipation of what small talk would fill those fleeting seconds between the start of scanning his items and the moment he took his card out of the reader, and also what wonderful ingredients he would buy that day. She tried to be nonchalant and seem a little distracted as she opened with the weather. At first he seemed surprised but also pleased he was being treated as more than just another customer. As she scanned his whole buckwheat, she would move the conversation around to college and how the part-time job was a welcome relief from lectures. Those precious seconds before he picked up his purchases ticked away all too quickly.

Then she started noticing he always seemed to pick her register. Instead of talking to him every three or four days, she would have him opposite whenever he came into the store, which was almost everyday. She also noticed that her pussy was getting moist and tingly as she scanned his black lentils and wild rice. Why was this guy so hot, she wondered? Well he’s obviously vegan she thought. Plus he looks like a porn star who she masturbates to regularly, that’s a bonus. To seal the deal, he must be single. The one thing you can tell from someone’s shopping is if they are buying for one or two people and Andrew always bought for one.

Finally, she couldn’t wait any more. This issue had to be resolved.  she blurted out the question that was hanging in the air. Just as he was sliding his card into the reader and with no next customer waiting she leaned over. “You’re vegan aren’t you?” He typed in his pin number, hit “Enter” and turned his head back towards her. “More of a  seagan actually. I eat fish for the B12. I could cook for two if you’re interested?” She had never heard a proposition that was sweeter to her ears, or her pussy.

A few hours later she was in his apartment on her knees with his hard dripping cock in her mouth. She had had the most delicious home-cooked seagan meal that her demanding palate had ever enjoyed and there was no way she was leaving before his old macrobiotic cock had pounded her until it couldn’t pound anymore. Studying food science could lead you down the most unexpected of life’s paths.

The Careful Professors

The Careful Professors

These were dangerous days. At least if you were a middle aged male college professor with a high sex drive and a particularly keen interest in the female students who you regularly came in contact with. The two of them had agreed on that as they sat around drinking coffee in one of their campus offices. They both had an inkling of the other’s extracurricular activities but neither had discussed this so openly before. Both of them had always regarded occasional sexual relations with willing students as just a natural perk of the job. These young women were rarely seriously involved with anyone and sometimes had quite specific fantasies they wanted to fulfill. Some female students liked the idea of being taken advantage of by a powerful older man. Some liked the idea of sexual favors in return for a better grade (in fairness, the professors usually did bump grades but only by one of two notches). Some had genuine daddy issues and just needed to feel emotionally close to an older man. Some girls were simply very horny and loved to experiment. The two professors were happy to help meet all these needs.  All the participants were willing and the danger of repercussions had been reasonably low.

But now the scenery had changed. Harvey Weinstein’s abuse of power dwarfed all the abusers that had come before him and  had unleashed a torrent of allegations against men of formerly impeccable character. The male dominoes were falling one by one. The charming and erudite  Mark Halperin. The hilarious and amiable Louis C. K. Who was next?  It seemed like this spreading tidal wave of accusatory fingers could touch every male in positions of power that came in contact with younger women, including avuncular academics like themselves.

Society was getting whipped into a fever pitch about the abuse of power by sexual predators and both professors agreed that it was getting a little too risky to have their faculty cocks inside young pristine undergraduate pussies. It just took one regretful sophomore to tearily tell her distraught mother how their evil professor had preyed on their innocent naivety before deans were called, charges were filed, tenure was lost and academic lives were ruined. The effects of the following social fallout would flood over family and friends alike. Both professors had started feeling like they could easily become the character John in the David Mamet play “Oleanna”.

How could this conundrum be solved? Was there no way that sexual congress between professor and student could not continue unimpeded? The answer came to them like a bolt from the blue. There they were, sitting across from each other, lamenting the curtailment of their dissolute lifestyle when they looked up and realized the solution was right in front of them: it was each other! From now on, the only kind of sex that was going to happen was the sharing kind. If one of them was going to fuck a young female student then the other was going to help them do it. No longer would it be a case of “she said, he said”. From now on it would be a case of “she said, they said”. And besides, threesomes were more fun!

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