Summer Sex

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A Sexy Summer Evening at Tawney Lawn Retirement Home

Dear Reader–Literotica is very concerned about sex stories with underage characters, whether they are fictional or real. Such a submission will be refused. In this story, we have quite the opposite conundrum, three geriatric old-timers in a retirement home who act like teenagers on their high school prom night.

Who says old people don’t like sex? Of course, if they are ill, they might have little use for the “old in and out.” On the other hand, if they enjoy the bounty of good health, that same fever, which occupied their youthful days and nights, can quickly return. When the opportunity presents itself, you can be sure somebody is going to get…



Mr. Julius Smith was an opera buff. He had been at Tawney Lawn’s retirement home for 3 years, arriving at the age of 67. Julius had lived in California for almost seven years, but still considered himself a New Yorker. He had initially considered Florida. Most of his family and friends retired to coastal cities north of Miami., he liked the allure of Tinsel Town. Julius had rented a small apartment in the Larchmont Village area, but as time went on, he tired of having to shop and cook. He wasn’t a big fan of Mexican cooking. On occasion, Julius would walk to the Fairfax area for a New York-style meal at Canter’s Delicatessen. He would smile at the black-hatted Hasidics whom he passed ferrying their children home from religious school.

Julius received a plethora of mailings from various retirement homes. He visited Tawney Lawns and thought he’d be content there. They had a decent restaurant, a cafeteria, maid service, a small swimming pool to use in the warm weather, and a recreation center. Julius hoped a new residence might turn his life around, maybe he’d find a little excitement. He wasn’t unhappy at Tawney, but except for the change of location, and less housework, life was pretty much the same. He missed Cecelia, his twice a week maid who cleaned his old apartment.

Cecilia often had favored him with a blow job an hour after he’d taken his Viagra. Of course, he never told her of his need for the medication. Sadly, Julius hadn’t found a substitute for her valuable services. Cecelia would visit him every few months at Tawney and stay the afternoon. The best they could manage was a handjob under a towel while the door was left open a crack, the rule for outsider’s visits.

Julius spent most days listening to his record collection consisting of a large selection of Operatic performances on Deutscher Gramophone label. He preferred vinyl to cd’s and would sing along with the arias. Since he was hard of hearing, he might be singing too loudly for those who roomed nearby. Mrs. Cheever, across the hall, didn’t mind his singing. She had no trouble sleeping right through it.

Julius did not have to renounce his pleasure for playing pocket billiards. There was a relatively new Brunswick table in the recreation center covered with green felt, next to a large yellow ‘No Smoking’ sign on the wall. Not too many residents played. Aficionados always refer to the game as ‘pool.’ Shooting pool was a skill Julius learned as a teenager. He played at the Amsterdam Billiard Academy on 10th St. in New York City. If the Academy gave out diplomas, Julius certainly merited one. He wasn’t born a gambler, but the tension exerted on players to compete for remuneration can be compelling. Playing pool provided a second income. He made out well enough to buy a small apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. He worked days in the meatpacking district and spent most nights at the pool hall. Julius sold his cooperative apartment at the age of 60 and moved to Los Angeles. He was tired of New York winter’s cold and snow.

Julius missed the city, the people seemed friendlier there, colder in California. Harvey, who played pool with him, put it this way,

“You see Jules, people here in Los Angeles came here from all over, mostly they were running away. From what, we will never know? But they are an unhappy bunch of unfriendly bastards. Don’t ever turn your back on ’em.” And Harvey would pat the snub nose revolver he kept strapped under his left armpit.

Jules and Harvey never played for money, they played for the love of the game. It didn’t matter who won or lost. Their conversation was mostly about women. Both men had a locker box of stories that never seemed to run out. Harvey, who knew his way around the wilder quarters of the LA, would take Jules to a ‘tug and rub’ joint, down on Los Angeles Street where anything goes. The young masseuses were Chinese or Korean. A good happy ending was followed by a warm towel wash up.

Harvey would say,

“What more could an old guy want, than a good looking young girl’s hand on his cock. ” They both day dreamed of taking a vacation to China.


Alice Cheever called herself “a widow lady.” If one was to probe her history, you’d discover she’d been a promiscuous flower child during escort bostancı San Francisco’s ‘Summers of Love.’ Alice Cheever was also a founding member of an all-girl band, “The Milk Maids.” They sang a mixture of Irish folk songs and soft rock. Their most notable appearance was as the undercard of a Rambling Jack Eliot concert at The Bear Mountain Festival.

Their performance was noted by a two-line mention in Rolling Stone Magazine,

“It was obvious why they were called the “Milk Maids.” Their singing and tight outfits were crowd-pleasers.”

The San Francisco Chronicle’s music critic, Zeek Bower, wrote,

“Their youthful exuberance and delivery make them the group to watch. Watching was only half the fun.”

Alice had always wondered if the night she’d spent with Zeek had anything to do with his enthusiasm?

Alice and her two friends had hoped to be signed by a major label. Bonnie Rowans, suddenly decided to leave the group and join a Hippy commune at the infamous Barker Ranch. Bonnie’s sudden departure spelled an end to Alice’s group aspirations, but Alice was still a part of the music scene. She sang backup for Loyd Anderson and enjoyed several affairs with recording artists of both sexes. She preferred men, but after a few drinks or snorts of white magic, she lost all inhibitions and was open to all advances.

The musician who introduced her to psychedelics was Harold Baron. His real name was Harry Roninsky. Baron had been a student of Timothy O’Leary before taking his advice, ‘Tune in and drop out.’ After Baron quit Harvard, he dabbled in LSD as both a user and a dealer. He obtained Lysergic Acid from a secret lab and impregnated tiny squares of blotter paper that he sold. Harold and Alice lived on the edge but soon achieved notoriety. Their flower child wedding was covered by Time Magazine. Harold Baron, a skilled lyricist, decided to form a duo called ‘Starlight and the Big Kahuna.’

Unfortunately, their act ended precipitously. Experiencing what turned out to be a poorly timed LSD trip, the Kahuna climbed over the narrow iron balcony railing at the Sunset Hyatt in Hollywood. Attempting to fly towards a spectacular sunset, he fell to his death eight stories below, Just several hours before their breakthrough gig at the Troubadour.

Alice mourned Harrold Baron for several years, unable to forget his electric personality, sexual fervor, and sizable penis. The music industry turned their back on Alice. They considered her a Jonah (unlucky.) She remained in a mental haze of blotter squares and whiskey bottles while searching for a replacement lover and collecting welfare checks. No one knows many drunken drug-filled midnights stands occurred during that time. Her journal pages for that period were empty.

Alice finally met her soulmate at the Frolic Bar on Hollywood Boulevard. Her new flame, Oliver Cheever, was a mid-level bank bureaucrat and also well endowed. He was tall, partially bald, and had a great sense of humor. The Scotsman with his kilt and small goatee was to her immediate liking. After a few Martinis, Alice wasn’t sure if it was Oliver or the ghost of Baron who was fucking her.

Oliver was fifteen years her senior, with a penchant for swinging. The couple set up house together and were married at an Elvis ceremony in Las Vegas. They attended swinger’s parties with Roger, the famous dirty trickster and his Cuban wife several weekends a year, with other notable Hollywood players and politicians. Roger, obsessed by Alice’s mammaries, even suggested she sing the national anthem at the President’s inauguration, preferably topless.

At Swinger’s Parties, Alice would dress audaciously and have sex with a variety of men and women. She particularly liked bald men. She thought that the testosterone in bald men did not go to their scalp but went right to their balls. None of her paramours argued with her. The last bout of the evening was always saved for Cheever. Their swinging sex life was interrupted one energetic night when Oliver tried to satisfy two women at the same time. That evening there was no last bout for the star crossed lovers. Alice’s sweet Oliver, still smiling, died of a massive heart attack, helped on by a lung full of ‘black tar’ and two tabs of ecstasy.

Alice was now in her sixties. Time passes quickly. Once she became single, Alice put away her sexy clothes and ceased to reveal her naked breasts to strangers. Of course, she’d service the occasional FedEx delivery man or the church minister who gave her very private bible lessons. She had entered Tawney Lawns at the behest of her accountant, Murray Finster, who convinced her it was the best solution, both financially and health-wise. He arranged the sale of Cheever’s big Spanish styled home in Hidden Hills to a relative of his and put the proceeds in a living trust for Alice. A year later, Finster sold the house for nearly double, the only improvement he made was a new red tile roof. At 64 years, Alice became one ümraniye escort of the ‘young guards’ at Tawney Lawns, but she was far from giving up her pleasures.



Harvey Flint had a corner room down the hall from Alice Cheever. His window had a pleasant view of a sizable California Oak Tree. An array of colorful nesting birds perched there. Harvey would spread birdseed on his exterior window sill. Little brown wrens, sparrows, and mustard-colored doves came in droves. Mid-sized darker birds with white tail feathers who nested in the Oak visited his sill. Harvey could not figure out what the name of the bird was even though he had saved a newspaper article on identifying local birds.

When the seeds ran out, the more aggressive birds would peck at the window for more. When the springtime mating season came round, Harvey would smile at the warblers mounting each other. He was always careful not to move suddenly. If only one bird sensed his movement behind the window, that bird would warn the others, and they would all fly away, only to return five minutes later.

Harvey had spent his early career as a police officer attached to the vice squad in Los Angeles. When not on the clock, he dated both men and women. Harvey never considered marriage, preferring a closeted bisexual lifestyle. He liked pussy, but he also liked cock. Harvey had numerous liaisons throughout the years with both men and women. He did not care for sex with anyone under the age of twenty. Harvey was just short of six feet, with a muscular, masculine body and a chiseled jaw, Harvey seldom failed to find and offer satisfaction. He was as adept at cunnilingus as he was at fellatio and enjoyed both positions. He was a patient and practiced lover. Harvey never revealed his bisexuality.

Harvey lived in San Pedro in a small apartment near the shore, but worked in the Manhattan Beach Police Department. He would date women he met in supermarkets or bars. These companions or tourists were not looking for permanence but enjoyed a one night stand. Harvey would frequently visit Los Angeles for an occasional evening at a bathhouse or a West Hollywood gay bar. He somehow managed to blend in with the crowd. Harvey’s fear of disease led him to always use condoms. With time, as he aged, those visits became less frequent. He began to associate sore throats with sucking one too many cocks.

When assigned to the vice squad in Manhattan Beach, Harvey enjoyed an active sex life, granting “pardons” to prostitutes who offered themselves freely rather than being arrested. A prostitute doing 15 guys a night, figured a 20-minute cop freebee was worth more than losing two or three weeks in the clink. Harvey was clear on one issue, he never asked for the free-blowjobs, standup alley fucks, or back seat lays in his squad car. If such services were offered, he accepted. There was no shakedown, no quid pro quo. Harvey always carried a few condoms in case the pro didn’t roll one on his erection before sex.

Towards the end of his law enforcement career, he began to attend a small Law School at night. When he retired with a Detective’s pension, he took a year off to study for the bar and eked through on his second try.

Harvey opened a law office in Manhattan Beach, on Torrance Boulevard, very close to the courthouse. The word spread quickly. Sex workers, Johns, transsexuals, and gays that Harvey had fraternized while a policeman, all came calling. Before long, Harvey had a thriving law practice representing the same bunch he had once victimized, but nicely. Besides the usual medley of cases serviced by a small law firm, Harvey dealt mainly with vice infractions, property disputes, and occasionally wills and trusts. He avoided family law, the most dangerous area. An angry husband facing divorce had shot and killed an attorney friend he had gone to school with.

Family law was more dangerous than criminal clients.

After years of writing pleadings and dealing with corrupt Judges, Harvey began to consider retirement. He investigated numerous possibilities, but the hotel-like atmosphere of Tawney Lawns seemed the best option. Harvey could come and go but didn’t have to clean or cook. His red Caddy, bought at a Police Auction, remained parked outside, available any time he was desirous of a change of scenery. Now a young 67 years, with pepper and salt hair, Harvey could still pop a boner watching porno on the internet.


Early one August Sunday morning, most of the residents were down the block at the Memonodies Non-Denominational Church singing hymns. Three non-religious members were absent from the choir. They were seated in Tawney Lawn’s cafeteria, enjoying breakfast.

Afterwards, the same three wandered out to the patio and sat on the beach chairs around the pool. An older man was making a valiant effort to swim laps. Harvey and Julius watched him but had no intention of getting wet. Alice had changed into a flower swimsuit and was busy kartal escort bayan applying suntan oil to her arms.

“Do you need any help, little lady,” said Julius.

“Thanks,” said Alice and handed the plastic bottle to Julius who rubbed the lotion into her back and shoulders, being careful not to touch her breasts.

“Oh don’t be bashful Sir, I’m sure you’ve touched titty before.”

“Julius turned red in the face and applied more lotion to her upper chest area.”

It seemed like no one wanted to swim. The guys chatted and Alice put an eye mask over her face. As the sun rose higher the air grew hotter and the smell of suntan lotion was mildly intoxicating. The men sat for a while watching Alice and finally left to go to continue their pool game. Alice awoke when one of the other ladies started splashing with a grandson, disappointed that the men had left.

Later that evening, Alice, Julius, and Harvey were sitting in the Recreation Room. It was a warm night but the airconditioning made the room cool.The two men often ate dinner together. They recognized Alice seated nearby but up until today they had never conversed with her. At best, they’d offered her a quick “Good Morning” or a nod. Between themselves, however, they had mentioned Alice. The subject being Alice’s enormous breasts and a shapely ass that both men found attractive. Maybe it was the summer heat that got the ‘sap’ flowing in their veins but

both men were feeling horny, a tightness down below that kept their eyes focused on Alice.

Both Harvey was halfway through the sports section of the Los Angeles Times. Julius was daydreaming about Alice’s big tits when Alice shouted out to the ‘boys.’

“Anyone want to play gin rummy?”

They both answered the call.

“Come on, fellows. I’ll take you both on, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Alice flashed a sly grin with her tongue partially resting on her lower lip, her eyebrows raised.

“We’ll play round-robin,” she continued, “the loser sits out a hand, the winner sits in. I’m a Goddamn pro at this game, so I expect I’ll be playing with each of you, I rarely lose.”

“Sounds good,” said Harvey, turning to Julius, “Let’s see if the lady plays as good as she looks.”

Julius, still half in dreamland, awoke abruptly.

“Ah yes, gin rummy, why not?” he responded, “You’re on tits, I mean Alice, excuse me, I get tongue-tied occasionally.”

“If you get your tongue-tied around my tits, that’s no problem at all.”

Both men laughed, realizing the lady was as horny as they were.

The three were seated at a round card table as Alice started to deal. True to her declaration, she was an expert player. The three of them played together for almost two hours with Alice winning all but two matches. Then Alice got up from from the table,

“Gotta pee guys,” and left the two men alone.

“Do you think we could fuck her, she’s not bad looking,” said Harvey.

“We should give it a try,” said Julius. “I love those tits. Do you have any Viagra?”

“Sure,” said Harvey, reaching into his jacket pocket, taking out a small bottle of pills.”

“Is this Viagra, I thought the pills were blue?”

“It’s the same shit, it’s generic, called Revaltio, it’s a species of Cialis like Levetrol. They use it in France. It’s what they prescribe down at the Kaiser Hospital.”

“If it’s good enough for the Frenchies, it’s good enough for me,” said Julius.

Harvey handed him three small white pills.

“Here, buddy, if you usually need a full Viagra, take the three. If not, take just two. If you take too much of this stuff, your balls jam up. You can keep your hard-on for a long time, but you can’t cum.”

“Well that’s no fun, I’ll take two.”

“Look, Jules,” leaning in close, “let’s get her up to her room and convince her to play strip poker. Once we get her naked, she’s sure to let us fuck her.”

“OK, sounds like a plan.”

A few minutes later, Alice returned to the rec room. She must have been considering the same plan as the guys, because the first thing she said was, “Boys, why don’t you come on up to my room. I’ve got a bottle of 20-year-old Scotch. I can’t drink it all myself.”

The three quietly left the recreation room. One of Tawney’s guidance counselors said, “Good night” to Alice who responded,

“Let’s hope, so I’m ready to go to bed.”

“Yeah,” the guys chimed in, “It’s been a long warm day.”

Since hanky panky was not permitted in the Tawney, Alice suggested they take off their shoes in the elevator and walk softly to her room. She unlocked the door, whispering,

“Pull up the two chairs next to the bed, we can use the bed as a table.”

Alice bent over to pull a Ballantine’s bottle out of the bottom of her bed bureau. It was hidden in a white towel. While bending over, Alice’s skirt slipped down. Her ass crack smiled at the men winked at each other. Harvey was already at half mast.

“Grab some glasses, boys,” said Alice.

The first thing the two guys noticed when they were seated was a photo of Alice with her band members on her bureau..

“Hey,” said Harvey, is this you Alice?”

“Yep, my old singing group.”

“I’ll be damned,” said Julius, “You were one of the ‘Milkmaids?'”

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