OLD PETE
by Witchman
Beatrice shivered in the cold as she quickly ran home, caught in the unexpected rain without an umbrella. Her billowy cotton dress was getting soaked.
She swung the small iron gate behind her, not bothering to lock it.
As she stood on the front porch of the two-story house, a knocking at the window of the house immediately next to hers caused her to turn, her exasperation quickly vanishing.
It was old Pete, the widower next door. He was waving a towel and a steaming cup of some heady brew, beckoning her to come inside.
She hesitated. Although Pete had been her neighbor for the past three years, she had never actually been inside his home. Still, she was soaked, and at least she could dry off there.
Beatrice hugged the diminutive but dignified older man as swung open the door to his humble home. “Hi Pete! Thanks so much for letting me in, I am soaked!”
Pete merely smiled. “Anything for a friend. Come on in. I just made a fire and some cocoa.
“Thanks, but let me dry off first.”
Pete studied Beatrice’s wet frame. “That dress will never dry, even by the fire. Dry off in the bathroom. If you like, I can put your dress in the dryer.”
Beatrice smiled again. It was nice and chivilarous of this older gentleman to be so kind to her. “Thanks Pete, but you don’t have to go to any trouble.”
It wouldn’t be trouble at all, I’d be glad to do it. In fact, there’s an extra robe in there that you can put on, if you like. Your dress will be dry in twenty minutes.
Again, the young woman paused, then caught a whiff of the cocoa and gast a sidelong glance at the inviting fire. " Well, okay,” she said, and whisked herself off to the bathroom.
Her comfort level with her senior neighbor came from the reputation of Pete himself. Although the two neighbors weren’t confidantes, Beatrice kn ew that the retired Pete had been a plumber, and still made his living as a handyman, doing all sorts of odd jobs for his neighbors. A Korean War veteran, Pete had been married for thirty years and lived all of that time in the same neighborhood, in the same house. His wife had died a few years earlier, and Beatrice had noticed that the old man had few visitors, and no friend that she knew of. Still with a full head of silvery hair, Beatrice thought that he must have been very handsome when he had been a young man.
As a single woman in a man’s world, Beatrice had been very appreciative of Pete’s help over the years. He was someone who could always be counted on to unclog a toilet. He had fixed the broken door in her bedroom, and taught her how to trim hedges. He always shoveled her sidewalk in the winter, without her ever having asked, and he never accepted any money. He had saved her a lot of money by never having to use a professional who would almost certainly overcharge her. She had no fear of anything unpleasant happening.
She slipped the wet dress off of her body, and admired her plump but sexy frame.
She had a large head of curly black hair, the bangs paying notice to her dark eyes and olive skin. Although just slightly over five feet, her breasts were an ample 34D. Her ass was round and firm, fleshy enough to tempt pinching fingers.
She studied the old, faded robe that hung on the hook of the bathroom door, slightly obscuring her view of herself in the mirror. “Maybe it belonged to his wife,” she thought, rubbing her fingers over the soft, pleasant material. It does feel good.”
Shrugging her shoulders, she drew the robe over her emerald green bra and panties, drawing tight the belt.
As she exited the bathroom, she was momentarily startled by Pete, who had emerged from the living room to retrieve her dress. He carried another cup of cocoa, offering it to her. “Here,” he said, “take this and sit by the fire while I go put that in the dryer.”
Beatrice blushed and squeezed Pete’s hands. “Pete, you are SO sweet!” she gushed, gratefully accepting the cup.
Pete merely smiled again. “Anything for a lady. You’ve always been nice to me.”
Beatrice entered the cozy living room and curled up in an oversized, Archie Bunker like chair.
The room was exactly the way she had pictured it. Faux Tiffany lamps, bookcases built into the walls, full of popular tomes from the 50’s and 60’s, a stereo that still played 78s, spider-web curtains, and a mantelpiece over the fireplace with pictures of Pete in his old Army uniform, and photos of happy times with his late wife.
Beatrice sighed, thinking how lonely Pete must get sometimes. Although not married herself, and currently not dating anyone, Beatrice did have a solid circle of friends, and never had a problem getting dates.
She yawned as she sipped the sweet chocolate brew, her eyes adjusting to the warmth and brightness of the fire. “How cool it must be to have a fireplace, and a dryer,” she thought again, taking larger and larger sips of the cup.
The embers glowed as the fire crackled and popped, the rain outside growing heavier. She suddenly realized that she felt very comfortable and safe. It had really sucked to have been caught in the rain, and here was Old Pete, ready with a dry towel and a hot cup of cocoa.
She yawned again, the light of the fire dancing in her eyes, her robe warm around her, the warmth of the fire warm against the robe.
“Mmmm. Someone looks comfy,” Pete teased as he reentered the room, sitting down in a chair across from Beatrice’s by the fire.
Beatrice opened her mouth, finding it odd that she seemed to be having difficulty focusing. “Pete, thanks so much for everything. It is so nice and comfortable here.”
“I’m glad you enjoy it. I don’t get much company these days. My wife couldn’t have children, and we both came from only child backgrounds.”
“Do you ever get...lonely?” Beatrice asked, taking a healthy snort of the cocoa, which tasted vaguely of liqueur
“I am at peace with the world. Besides, I’m not lonely now. But what of a pretty young girl like you? The boys must be chasing you.”
“No one’s caught me yet,” she murmured, draining the cup of its contents. “Mmmm...that was good.”
“It ought to be, " Pete replied. “I put a little brandy in it to help warm you up. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Pete?” she cooed, finding it hard to be angry at the old man.
“ Heavens no, I never needed to do that to get a girl. I was pretty good in my day, too. My wife always told me that I was her best man.
“Yep, no one could take my Muriel’s place, but I don’t mind the company of pretty young girl. Keeps me in shape,” he winked.
Beatrice smiled. “The old man has a crush on me,” she thought.
“How do you feel, Beatrice? Nice and warm?” Pete inquired. “That was Muriel’s old robe. It’s nice and warm, isn’t it?” ”
“ I am toasty warm,” Beatrice giggled, slightly tipsy, her body warm and snug.
“And the fire, Beatrice, isn’t it nice and warm?”
“Oh very. You are so lucky to have a fireplace.”
“Yes, I enjoy it. I oftentimes sit here in the winter and just stare at the fire, just stare at the fire.
“See how it flickers and dances? See how bright it is? Look at how the center of the fire is brighter than the rest of it. Just relax and look, you’ll see it.”
Beatrice took a deep breath, and let it out with a deep, relaxing sigh.
“That’s it,” Pete said, his voice softer now, more relaxed. “Just relax and look at the fire, Beatrice. Relax and look at the fire. Just relax and look now, relax and look. Relax and look. Look into the fire. Look into the light of the fire. Look into the light of the fire, and feel its warmth washing over you, washing over you, washing away the day, washing away the day, washing over you, washing over. Beatrice I want you to relax and look into the center of the fire, and feeeeeeel the waves of warmth and relaxation washing over you, washing over you, washing over you, washing over you and making you relax, washing over you and making you relax. The top of your head, relaxed. Your neck and shoulders, relaxed. Feel the muscles, Beatrice, feeeeeeeel the muscles, feel the muscles as they relax, feel the muscles as they relax. The muscles in your arms, relax. The muscles in your arms, relax. The muscles in your hands, relax. The muscles in your hands, relax. The muscles in your fingers, relax. The muscles in your fingers, relax. The area behind your seat, relaxed. ”
Beatrice’s eyes were drooping, her lips parted, her head slowly lolling forward to her chest. She could feel the warmth of the waves washing over her. Her cup slid unnoticed from her fingers, and her breathing became slower, slower, more relaxed.
Pete’s voice continued to drone on, softer and huskier now, more assured, more masculine, more ......in control.
“Feel the muscles relax, Beatrice, feel the muscles relax. Feel the muscles in your chest, relax. The muscles in your stomach, relax. The muscles in your seat, relax. The muscles in your thighs, relax. Feel the warm, relaxing feeling washing over your legs, washing over your legs, washing down your legs, washing down your legs. Feel your legs relaxed now, feel your legs relaxed. Feel your feet relaxed now. Your whole body is relaxed now. And as I start to count from ten to one, and as you continue to stare deep into the warm, relaxing fire, your eyes will draw closed, and you will fall into a deep, deep, sleep, hearing only my voice, hearing only my voice, my voice making you more and more relaxed Beatrice, more and more relaxed, my voice relaxing you more and more, more and more, the sound of my voice relaxing you more and more. ”
“ Listen to my voice, Beatrice. Ten....eyes so heavy now, deep inside the fire. Nine... face warm, body warm, warm in deep relaxation. Eight...more and more relaxed now, more and more relaxed. Seven...deeper and deeper still, deep in the fire. Six, eyes so heavy, so heavy. Five...halfway there now, halfway to deep, warm relaxation. Four... no going back now, no going back. Three...cannot resist, you cannot resist, your body and mind offer no resistance to my words, no resistance to my words, no resistance, no resistance. Two, eyes so heavy now, so heavy, unable to keep your eyes open, ready to fall, and One, deep, deep sleep, Beatrice. Deep, deeeeeeeep, sleeeeeep.”
Pete’s face flushed, his heart pounding with excitement as he watched Beatrice’s head fall forward, her robe partly opening to reveal the soft swell of her breasts as her chest moved with each full and deep breath.
He took a few moments to come himself, not wanting to ruin the moment with a cardiac arrest.
He slowly stood up, and softly walked over to the hypnotized young girl. He picked up her left arm and dropped it, the enthralled Beatrice showing no signs of movement.
He spoke slowly and commandingly. “Beatrice, can you hear me?” he asked.
Beatrice barely nodded her head, groaning a guttural affirmation.
“Do you feel warm and relaxed now Beatrice, warm and relaxed?”
“Yesssss,” she whispered.
“Now Beatrice, you know that you will feel much warmer if you loosen your robe. Loosen the belt of your robe, Beatrice.”
Her arms languorously undid the belt, falling to her sides, spent by the effort.
Pete’s eyes shined wickedly, as he pushed her robe further from her body. “Your bra looks so tight, Beatrice, so tight and uncomfortable. Why don’t you unhook it? It will make you feel so much more comfortable, Beatrice, so much more relaxed. Unhook your bra, Beatrice.”
Again, with a supreme amount of effort, Beatrice raised her fingers to her bra, unhooking the front clasp with a sigh, her heavy breasts springing free.
Pete panted slightly as he unzipped his fly, pulling out his rapidly expanding cock. “Your panties, Beatrice, they are too tight, " he croaked, barely able to restrain himself.
She tried to move, but she was too deep in trance, so much so that she her mind barely registered the fact that someone was tugging at her panties, pulling them down past her knees, roughly pulling them off her feet.
Pete smashed the panties into his face, and inhaled deeply. His breath was ragged as he wrapped the soaked and pungent panties around his cock, stroking it furiously. It only took a few moments for him to orgasm, his voice a loud cry of pleasure and long pent-up emotions.
It took several moments for Pete to catch his breath, but when he did, he got down on his hands and knees, crawling over to the choice area between Beatrice’s slumped and opened legs.
His voice was a trembling, hoarse whisper now. “Listen to me Beatrice. For the next several moments who will feel unbelievable pleasure, but you will not be able to move. In fact the more pleasure your body feels, the more relaxed and unable to move it will become. You will not be able to move your body or open your eyes until I command it. Do you understand Beatrice? You want to feel unbelievable pleasure, don’t you, do go ten times deeper, a hundred times deeper, a thousand times deeper, don’t you, Beatrice?”
“Yesss.....deeep....want....deeep,” Beatrice sighed, her jaw slack, her mind fuzzy and helpless.
“Good, now I will begin.”
Pete slowly and lovingly began to lick her thighs, the caresses of his tongue becoming larger and longer and slower, deftly nibbling and biting and licking.
Beatrice felt her body starting to squirm, but she could not move. Her breaths became quicker, and her cunt was soaked, the juices glistening against her thighs, her quim running like a faucet.
For a deliciously long time, she moaned and whined as Pete moved closer and closer to her engorged and throbbing clit, her lips quivering in anticipation.
Her body shuddered, and she squealed, just the touch of Pete’s lips on her pussy causing her to gush in orgasm.
As her body was wracked in pleasure, she felt her face flush with embarrassment and desire, dimly realizing that her older neighbor was eating her pussy, yet having had her pleasure threshold pushed so expertly that her body yearned for more.
Her wishes were rewarded, as her body shook again.
After the fourth orgasm, Beatrice’s arms and legs spread even wider, her body giving itself over to this oral onslaught.
On and on Pete licked and kissed and sucked, patiently pleasing Beatrice’s pussy with no thought of hurry or need to stop.
As yet another orgasm washed over her, she realized that the bursts of pleasure were like the waves themselves, the waves that were even now still washing over her, washing over her, washing away her will, washing away her will and mind.
An eternity passed, and she now heard Pete’s voice calling to her from far away, talking her to a beautiful set of five stairsteps, each step bringing her back to consciousness, each step bringing her back to wakefulness, her mind forgetting all, forgetting all, forgetting all.
“Wake up Beatrice, your dress is ready,” Pete said, gently nudging the groggy girl.
“Mmm, Pete, what happened?” she asked, as Pete helped her stand up, handing her the warm and dry dress, the bathrobe still wrapped around her. Hadn’t she....
“Nothing,” Pete assured her. “You just fell asleep for an hour or so. You looked so comfortable that I didn’t want to wake you. Now, it’s time for you to get dressed and go.”
He helped her to the bathroom, her mind reawakening, but seeming unable to recount for her time there.
Pete’s voice was like a buzzing in her mind as he helped her pull the dress over her head, gallantly turning away as she removed the robe. “Ummmm, thanks for, everything?” she said, not sure of what she meant.
Pete smiled. “Anytime, he said, " Look, the rain has stopped. Let me get the door for you. There you go, feel free to stop by any time. Bye now.”
As Pete closed the door, his hand darted into the pocket of his cardigan sweater, withdrawing Beatrice’s panties. He held them to his nose, breathing deeply.
The cold wet air snapped Beatrice back to reality, as she turned the key and turned the knob. " Now, here I am. All warm and relaxed,” she said aloud.
Yes, she was indeed lucky to have a friendly neighbor like Old Pete.