Some context first. I was born hypospadeas (look it up, easier than explaining). Reconstructive surgeries started from just after birth until my late teens, were extremely painful and traumatising. As such I was a late developer, physically. I was under 5ft until I was 16, under 5'3" until I was around 19, and had a very narrow waist...25in... and slim, almost hairless limbs and torso, until I was around 30.

During my last surgery I was placed alongside a much older man called Walter, he was around 70-72 if I remember. Unable to leave the bed I was stuck there for over a month. Walter was in for ankle surgery. We got to talking. He'd apparently been in the army and I was a padsbrat. He had served in places like Cypress and Aden. Usual stuff, about patrols, officers he didn't like and so on. He started talking about women he'd picked up in these places, and the things he'd gotten upto with them (his favourite position was woman on top). I must've looked uncomfortable as he asked if I was still a virgin, (I was, sort of, though of legal age in Scotland). He did apologise but I told him it was ok, the stories were interesting, just hard-ons hurt, a lot, which made him chuckle, the sadistic cunt! 🤣. He also asked if I'd ever been with a guy (orally yes), or seen a hard cock (again, yes), I told him "of course not" as being lgbtq in Scotland then was still a stoning offence and every squaddie I'd met were vehemently opposed to lgbtq people. He smiled at that though so I figured I'd "passed". And nothing more was said

A few days later it was bed bath time so the curtains were around my bed. The nurse was called away for something else, leaving me there, exposed. So I started reading a book. Nothing else to do. I heard a noise from Walter's direction, and looked over, he'd pushed the curtain frame a little towards the bottom of the bed, and was looking round it. With a clear view of my cock, seeing I was naked from the waist down. Realising he'd been spotted he smiled, winked and pulled his head back from sight. Again nothing more said, that day.

Next day, after the visitors left he pspsps'd me...yep, like I was a cat! I looked over and he flicked up his duvet exposing a cock that was literally the size of my forearm. Thick, cut, ridged with veins, and a bulbous head. Perfectly straight, even though he was lying side on. He grinned like the Cheshire cat as I just stared, I think I might have given him a thumb's up.... He nodded at me, winked and rolled over. Again, nothing else said.

A few days later he left. Before leaving he handed me a book he was reading. Some pulp action novel by a popular british author. Inside was a note with his phone number, address and an 'x'.

When I eventually got out of hospital it was a couple of months of recovery, waiting for stitches to be removed, the inevitable discovery of yet another failure (this time it was a success! Hurrah!). The surgeons said I should have full functionality after a while. Time moved on, around 6 months after the surgery I had completely forgotten about Walter. Until I picked his book up abd refound the note...

What to do...ignore it? Nothing had happened anyway. Did he want me? Was it a trap to catch a fag? Eventually I gave in. Hey, I'm a curious person. I called, withholding the number, just in case, he answered fairly quickly. I said my name, asking if he remembered me "from the hospital". Of course he did! He said. He asked if I was planning to visit, a mumbled a hasty yes "if that was ok". He laughed and asked when I'd like to visit as he was retired and had lots of free time. We arranged a day, after I'd cleared it with my parents (I lived at home until I was 20), that they didn't need me for anything, and evaded my incredibly bigoted father's typical questions.

I was nervous as anything, and since Walter lived out of town and I didn't yet have my motorcycle I had to get a bus, two in fact. The journey had me second guessing myself over and over again.

I got to his place eventually. Knocked on his door ready to bolt if I got wind of anything, but no. He opened the door, wearing a towelling bathrobe and comfy slippers. He smiled, said hello and beckoned me in. Directing me to the sitting room and asking if I'd like something to drink, "coffee" I said. I'm teetotal through choice, and back then not allowed alcohol anyway, even though I was legally old enough to marry!! His house was clean, neat and uncluttered.

He came in with the coffee, and set it on the table. I'd have to stand for it as I'd chosen an armchair instead of the sofa he was possibly hoping for, but again, nervous. I'd played with and sucked off a couple of friends but this, to me, was somehow, "different". We chatted about this and that, he asked about my surgeries. Told him it had been successful this time. He asked if he could see and I ssid "rather not". Still unsure.

The doorbell rang and I thought "uh oh, here we go" as he went to answer. Mumbled conversation through the sitting room door. Male voices but unclear, I pick up my coffee to throw it at anyone if needed. The door shuts. And he walks in apologising about the disturbance. I noticed his robe had come slightly undone giving glimpses of what was beneath, he doesn't adjust it. Instead standing directly in front of me, literally between my knees and asks if I'd like another coffee. I say no as I hadn't finished the first yet. I ask where the bathroom is though, and stand up to go, as I step off he comes up behind putting his arms around my waist, pressing against me, kissing the back of my neck. I can feel him harden against my butt. He lets me go and I go to the bathroom. When I return, he's on the sofa again, his robe wide, and that massive cock standing rigid. I walk over and get on the sofa with him. He puts his hand on the back of my head and pushes me down. He sighs as I take his cockhead in my mouth, my hand goes to his shaft and starts stroking, barely able to get my fingers round it. I try, but I can't take more than a handwidth of his cock in my mouth. He says it's ok, lifting my head to kiss me. His hands go down my pants, cupping my balls. I get up and strip off. My slim, pale, nearly hairless body and small, hard cock on full view. He pulls me close and begins sucking. He doesn't stop until I cum. He lubes up and turns me round...omfg he's going to fuck me. This was new. But damn I wanted it. I backed up, and sat, very slowly, and quite painfully I got his cockhead in me, I couldn't take him fully though, so had to balance like a woman on the toilet as he oh so slooooowly fucked me. Cumming in my ass (yes yes I know I was lucky that he was "clean"). I got off him, got back on the sofa as cum leaked out and played with his cock as he kissed my head and cuddled me. He asked if I'd like to visit again. I just nodded dumbly. He asked my clothing sizes so bemusedly I told him.

I went back again a few weeks later. When I got inside he told me to strip off as he had something for me to wear. It was a french maid outfit, and I became his visiting housemaid until he passed away. I like to think I made his last few years happy ones.