I can't help myself...I just love old men and as I haven't had one in such a long time, I felt compelled to write about one of the things on my wish list. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did thinking about it: I am sitting in the park on my own, crying. I've recently lost my job and my life has turned into an utter shambles. I'm barely able to make the rent on my flat so I know I'm soon going to be forced to leave. But I love it here and don't want to have to run back home to family with my tail between my legs. I haven't the foggiest about what my next move should be because I've no friends to confide in or turn to. I've been sobbing for a while, head in hands and I haven't noticed the elderly man sitting a short distance from me on another park bench seat. Soon though, he approaches and makes his presence known to me. "Hey there, girlie, I don't mean to intrude but is there anything I can do to help?" I sniffle, embarrassed to have been caught with my guard down in front of a complete stranger. "Er...no, I'm sorry, I'm..." He offers me a clean white handkerchief. Do people still buy those things? Tissues are the name of the game, these days. I mop at my eyes, mascara dirtying his hanky, which sets me off again. Eventually, his patience is rewarded. I blurt out my predicament and rather than pat me on the head, sympathise and walk away as any sane person would do in the same situation, he puts a comforting arm around me and tells me I'm welcome to stay at his house until I'm sorted. I can't believe my luck but naturally I can't accept his generous offer, either. "Thank you, but it's too much of an imposition. Besides the fact that I couldn't afford to pay you, you don't even know me." "Nonsense," he says, "I'm rambling about in that house all on my own and it would be lovely to have some young company. But if it makes you feel any better, you can pay me in kind." "In kind? What exactly does that mean?" I'd never heard the expression before. Does in kind mean by being kind to you I ask him? "I suppose you could call it that." He slides his free hand from my shoulder down to my breast and I can feel that familiar old tingling sensation start in my groin. I don't move away, instead I turn ever so slightly so that he doesn't have as far to stretch. "Do you like that, my dear?" he asks, tweaking my nipple. I do, I really do but I can't answer properly, so I just mutter "mmm" instead. My legs part slightly of their own accord. We are sitting side by side, facing forward towards the open expanse of park but now he moves his free hand down to the hem of my skirt. He slowly begins to peel my skirt up higher with his wrinkled old hand. I begin to shake. He can't be doing this; I can't be allowing this to happen, not out here in the open where anyone could see. I don't know him and yet here we are, his hand creeping further up my bare leg. "Oh god," I groan as his fingers reach the edge of my panties and start playing with the elastic around the top of my leg. This feels way too good to be true. I open my eyes for the briefest of moments to make sure we're not being observed. He is staring intently at my exposed underwear with a greedy leer on his face. My eyes flicker closed again when his fingers move inside my knickers and find my moist centre. When he circles my clitoris with his thumb he nearly brings me undone. I find myself shaking even more and I raise my bottom off the seat to meet his hand. Two gnarled fingers slip inside my vagina and begin to slide in and out of my wetness while his thumb continues its circular motion on my clit. He leans over me and gently nibbles at my neck, sending shivers up my spine. Then just as quickly, he sticks his tongue in my mouth, swirling it around inside. By now I am moaning, unconcerned if anyone should catch us. He moves his face away from mine and at the same time, rips my panties down around my knees. He slides off the seat so that his body is directly in front of me before sticking his wrinkly old face into my crotch, letting his tongue take over from where his thumb leaves off. By now I am writhing off the bench and trying to thrust myself as hard as I can into his face. The pressure from his tongue on my clit and the two fingers still inside me have brought me to the brink and I feel myself giving in to the moment, losing complete control. I come with his face still buried between my legs. I am shuddering and whimpering and feel my vagina pulsating through my climax. He continues to suck at me, more gently now though, as I come down from the high. I begin to sob anew, not from my dire situation but because of the pure release he has given me. When my breathing begins to steady, he moves back up beside me on the seat and wraps me in his arms. "Good girl," he croaks. "You're a good girl for your old man, aren't you." I can only nod as I nestle further into his embrace. I am looking forward to going home with him. Perhaps my life is already changing for the better. "I can't wait to see what else you can do for me," he says as he places my hand on the hard stiff bulge in his trousers.