She smiled at his enthusiasm. "I'm told it's even better fresh from the source. C'mon, Grandpa, you know you want to eat me out." She was absolutely r...ght; he had probably never wanted anything more in his life. The sight and the aroma and the flavor, combined with the memory of the way the young hotsy had thrashed about on the bed overcame any sense of propriety that may have been holding him back. His wife had always insisted he wear pajamas to bed, even during their infrequent couplings,. ‘Are you cold?’ he asked, only a slight quaver in his voice. I nodded, stood for a moment longer, and then walked quickly to the bed. I sat down hard on the down mattress and met his eyes again, daring him to come closer. He didn’t—instead, he proceeded to undress, folding his clothes neatly and setting them on the window seat. Finally, he straightened up and stared back, clad only in his long linen shirt. He was cold too, I could see, with that acute awareness that comes with fear, the gold. More

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