It was the evening, I had taken a second shower, my brain was working at 200 km/h after this first adventure at Mr P's.
On the one hand, I was ashamed of my behaviour, of having allowed myself to be touched, groped, licked until a "stranger" ejaculated on my legs. On the other hand, my mind, my body was getting bolder, I didn't dare admit it to myself, however, I had enjoyed being the centre of a physical desire that was not unhealthy but atypical and disturbing.

Disturbing to the extent that I hadn't realised I had left my phone with Mr P. It was an email from the support coordinator which read something like this.
"Mr. P is absolutely delighted with your services, however he points out that you are a bit absent-minded as you have left your phone at his house. You can pick it up tomorrow in the early afternoon, Mr.P will be waiting for you. Attached is his little list. Thank you, Mr. P. Keep it up."


I was stuck, the shame invaded me again, I remembered perfectly having put my phone in the entrance of Mr.P's flat, and I remembered perfectly having forgotten it...
I couldn't find sleep anymore, I binge-watched series to not remember my "exploits" of the afternoon and finally fell asleep.

The next day, in order to give myself a clear conscience, I wore a pair of jeans, a pink V-neck T-shirt not too low cut, and I went out to do some shopping for Mr. P.
Not having my phone, I had to use the intercom to say I had arrived. He was waiting for me at the exit of the lift, always so pleasant, polite and courteous, but always in his eternal burgundy bathrobe.
I entered the flat with my eyes downcast, ashamed, I knew he had noticed, but he made no comment.
However, I could see him "checking me out", as he called it, as I put away the few groceries in his cupboards.
I was about to ask him for my phone and leave, when I saw him handing it to me, I told him thank you, I was about to leave, when he asked me another favour.
He told me that he had knocked over a box of pencils and that some of them had gone under a cupboard in his library and that at his age he could no longer bend down to pick them up.
At the word library I had a slight flinch, which he noticed...
 
He accompanied me to the library, showing me the cupboard where the pencils had been put.
I saw him sit down in the armchair from the day before, his dressing gown painfully hiding his crotch.
I was ashamed again, there was no way I could retrieve those "damn pencils" without getting down on my hands and knees.
Looking under the cabinet, I saw so many pencils, I knew I had fallen into his trap... As I picked up the first ones and got up to put them on the desk, I noticed that Mr. P had spread his thighs a little and opened his dressing gown, one hand on the back of the chair, the other buried in the dressing gown pocket...

to go and get more pencils, I had to get back on all fours, contort myself a bit, spread my legs a bit so as not to lose my balance, my chest touched the floor and, yes, I risked a glance in Mr. P's direction.
He had spread his legs a bit more, from where I was sitting, I could see his heavy and hanging testicles, I could also see his hand in his pocket, because there must have been a hole in the pocket, which allowed him to caress himself in "all discretion".

I put the pencils down on the desk and remained on all fours, not wanting to get up to see what Mr. P was proudly displaying, and in doing so, I offered my breasts to his eyes, which were stretching heavily against the fabric of my T-shirt. I was even more ashamed of this, as I was already "showing off" on my knees to this old man.
For the last few pencils, I had to lie flat on the floor to get them. I got up to put them on the desk, when Mr.P called me to give them to him, when I turned around, his dressing gown was totally open...
His sex was erect, unhooded, his testicles were (are...) huge and hanging... He held out his hand, telling me to come closer and give him the pencils. I didn't know where to look, so instead of giving him the pencils, I dropped them...
With one look, I understood that I had to pick them up, some had rolled away, crouched down, I was looking for them, when I felt his hand on my head, caressing my hair, which immediately made me freeze... I could smell his sex, he caressed my cheek, went up on my hair.

Knowingly or unconsciously my face had come close to his glans, I was crouched down, I was not well, he held me delicately by the hair, I felt his glans against my cheek, he caressed my face with it... Then he brought it close to my lips, still holding me by the hair, and made it penetrate my mouth...I stayed a few seconds without doing anything...surprised, shocked by me, by my attitude...Then, still holding me by the hair, he started to make me come and go on his sex...
I let him do it, I saw in his eyes that he knew he had "won" when I got on my knees to be more comfortable...
At that moment, he let go of my hair, and I alone continued to have him in my mouth, to gobble his glans...his heavy hanging testicles attracted my hand...I was weighing them, caressing them...
he took his sex out of my mouth and without a word, he ordered me to lick his heavy testicles, to swallow them, while masturbating him...
Then taking me by the hair, he again made his sex penetrate my mouth, but on all its length, I was totally passive, it is him who directed the comings and goings... gently, but firmly...
Then he withdrew from my mouth, I was dazed by my attitude, however my reflections were very brief, because Mr.P, approaching again my face, holding me again by the hair, ejaculated in my face... A first heavy and powerful jet, which landed on my glasses, my forehead, of surprise, I raised my head, the second jet arrived on my lips and my chin...the third jet of this heavy and thick semen ended on my T-shirt...
I was on my knees, soiled with cum, I couldn't believe it, when Mr.P stood up, facing me, his sex now soft and hanging; nevertheless, he took me gently by the hair once more; he rubbed his sex on my face, loading it with his semen before making me swallow it again...
This was the first time I tasted Mr.P's cum, this was the first time I had so much cum in my mouth...After the shock, I found myself loving his thick, heavy cum, I had my hands on his thighs, and my tongue dutifully went over his sex looking for every drop of cum...

When he lifted me up, he kissed me full on the lips, took off my glasses covered in his cum, with his finger he removed the biggest one and made me suck it.
I could see my stained shirt, Mr.P took me to the bathroom, took off my shirt, which made my chest rise and fall heavily on my body...I could see Mr.P's lustful look on my breasts, I like this look heavy with meaning and envy...

He gave me some washing powder, and as I began to wash my shirt by hand in the sink, I felt Mr. P behind me, grabbing my breasts with his hands, groping them, kneading them, stretching my nipples...I could feel his sex still growing through my jeans...I could not wash my clothes...
His perverted hands on my heavy, sensitive breasts were making me lose what little reason I had left.
I felt his hands go down to my belly, unbuttoning and pulling down my jeans...
then I felt Mr.P, bending down...and his tongue began to caress my buttocks, roaming over my groove, while one hand caressed my vulva...
His tongue played with my anus, while one of his fingers "drew" my lips, I was getting wet...then Mr.P turned me over, and plunged his tongue into my vulva, sucking my lips, my clit... his tongue was lapping me...and his hands were playing with my buttocks...I had never been licked like that...I was getting wet, I was dripping...Mr.P was sucking it all up...then spitting it out on my breasts which he was licking greedily...
He was literally "eating" me...I was totally passive and I liked it...He made me cum that way...

Mr.P was tired after that. I took him back to his chair where he fell asleep, I was able to clean my shirt, put it in the dryer, then go home without forgetting my phone.

In the evening, in my small studio after yet another shower to dissolve the shame of having offered myself unrestrainedly to a 77-year-old man, I saw a text message. "You should wear skirts or dresses, you have such beautiful legs...