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The two students only moved in a month ago. Into the downstairs flat.Love’s Young Dream I called them. They’re not married, but no-one is these days, are they? Not that age anyway. I found out they’re not even twenty.It’s all so much freer than in my twenties, fifty years ago, or even when I became Professor. Yes, we held hands in public, and a man walked with an arm around his girl. Even then, the neighbours could look askance. But if I’d let an arm slide as far down my girl’s back as that young man from downstairs… The girl’s just the same.To be honest, though, I rather like it. Times are different, and they look so innocent. Why shouldn’t they clasp each other’s bottoms if it makes them happy? I love to see them walking off down the street, carefree, belonging to each other. Like I say, Love’s Young Dream. Come to think of it, I’d let a girl like that hold my bottom any day. Of course, you have to call them asses these days, don’t you?They’re students at the university, where I was Professor till I retired fifteen years ago at sixty. They started coming to the Orb and Sceptre. That’s where I came to know them better. So well, in fact, that Leanne asked if she could tell the story. I had no reservations about letting her. I’d be embarrassed to tell it myself. Even in my teaching and writing days I never wrote about penises, let alone my own, and as for young girls’ attributes, well, it was embarrassing enough to write about bottoms. Suffice to say I was soon to feel young hands over more than just my ass. ………….Professor Rodney says I can tell you our story. I’m longing to. He’s such a sweetie.Matt and I’d just moved into the ground floor flat.I’d known Matt was mine the moment I saw him, and it didn’t take us https://www.kusadasibest.com long to find the flat and move in together. I’ve never been so much in love. Or so horny. It showed everywhere we went. His arm around my waist would never stay there without sliding down my back and resting on the cleavage he liked so much. I returned the compliment, holding his muscular, neat ass to show the world I owned it. It gave me tingles in all those places Mother never got round to telling me about.We didn’t care what the neighbours thought. Not that we saw much of them, except the quiet, friendly, white-haired gentleman from upstairs. He seemed lonely. He was always at his window as we went out. It was almost like he wished he was with us. I could feel his eyes as we walked away. I was sure they were following Matt’s hand slinking over the small of my back to where it really wanted to be. I didn’t mind the eyes any more than the hand. It’s nice to be appreciated and he never looked greedily, just wistfully. A girl can tell these things even from behind.He looked even lonelier in the Orb and Sceptre. We’d just settled at a table, Matt with his real ale, and me with what we could only call ‘almost real’ wine, and there he was, in a corner, still looking distinguished with his full head of hair and neat, goatee beard. One thing about him, he knew how to keep that hair clean and white.I didn’t feel we knew him well enough yet to invite him over. Matt hadn’t spotted him.”Don’t look now,” I said to Matt. “The man from upstairs. He’s in the corner there.””Let’s ask him over.””Wait, I’ve thought of something. Can I run it past you first?””Fire away.””It’s just, he always looks so lonely. And we have so much happiness.””You can say that again.””Can we share it with him? In a special way? Only… you must say if you don’t want to.”It was warm. I was taking my coat off but did it in a way that ‘accidentally’ undid a couple of blouse buttons. No more than I could get away with in public, but so Matt could see a bit more than most. I also turned a little towards the man while apparently still intent on my wine. Out of the corner of my eye, I knew the man was looking at me. As usual, there was nothing predatory about his gaze, more wistful longing. As though remembering idylls from the past. I knew then what I wanted to do for him.”Matt, can we invite him to the flat? Will you help me make him as happy as we make each other? Please?””Mmm, you’ve got that horny look about you. What are you scheming? If it’s anything sexy I’m game. But you might have to help me get used to it.”Back home we sat on the sofa, me in the middle, basking in the admiration of an old man on one side and a young man on the other. Matt was already holding my hand. As I poured the professor some wine I reached over the coffee table. I leant far forward of where I needed, arching the small of my back inward, so the professor could see the curve of my back, and, as I knew he would, feast his eyes on the cleavage inside my skirt. I could feel his longing. I reached behind me and unzipped the skirt. I whispered to him, “You can,” took his hand and placed it against the back of my panty.I quickly looked round at Matt. He smiled and squeezed my hand. He was going to be on his best behaviour. After all, he was secure, no way was the Professor a rival.But Rodney (I can’t keep calling him the Professor) was behaving like no seventy-five-year-old in my experience. He had crept inside my panty. I lifted my ass so I was sitting on his hand, which knew exactly what to do. I lapped up the feeling as his fingers explored sensuously between my cheeks. I slid my panty off, took his other hand and set it ion my front.This was an experienced old gentleman. Instantly his palm moulded itself to my mound, while a sinking fingertip sought and found a little but dizzyingly potent nub which must already have been in his imagination. It had taken Matt weeks to learn where that was. I guided the finger, fine-tuning it to an already well-intuited spot.I put an arm around the Professor and whispered again, “Undress me.”I offered him my blouse so he could undo buttons and bra. Elegantly he bent and kissed each bared breast in turn. He saw my nipples harden and kissed again. His tongue traced the circle of areolae.I took another sip of the red wine (not that I needed to, the responses of the two men to my body was enough of a turn-on without any extra aid). As I sipped the wine I ‘accidentally’ spilt drops on each breast. The professor licked them off then kissed my nipples again, slowly savouring their hardness.Matt wasn’t being left out. When I’d returned the glass he took my hand and placed it in his opened fly around his hard cock. Curiously I felt for the Professor’s dick (he surely couldn’t object by now) to see if it, too, was responding. It had the hardness, and size, of an eighteen-year-old’s. Whether through the wine or the admiration I was becoming intoxicated. I stood up and dropped the few clothes that were left in a slow twirl of a striptease. Both men watched me, entranced, each totally unembarrassed in the presence of each other, the Professor transfixed with the grateful smile of an old man. I turned to him and slowly undressed him. I wondered how long it had been since anyone had seen his cock.
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