Geriatric H*es: I Used to Be a Librarian, Now I Read Smut Online While My 20-Year-Old Neighbor Brings Me Tea

Barbara

I’m sixty-five. No panties. One hand on my Kindle, the other sliding between my thighs, and my twenty-year-old neighbor keeps knocking like I didn’t just finish reading about a priest wrecking a girl in a confessional.

Liam’s sweet. He brings me tea. Checks on me like I’m fragile. Like he doesn’t smell the smut I’ve been soaking in.

But he’s got those hands. That mouth. That look like he wants to taste what’s dripping down my leg.

So I let him.

And now he’s obsessed.

Liam

She opened the door in a robe and nothing else. And I swear something inside me snapped.

Barbara’s not just older. She’s everything. Loud. Filthy. Wet in ways no girl my age has ever been. I came over to check on her and ended up face deep in the best decision I’ve ever made.

Now I study her body more than my textbooks. She teaches me things no professor ever could.

I taste her, learn her, fuck her on every surface.

I should be running. But she opens her legs and suddenly I believe in God.