"Hey, lass, what's the rush?" he laughed. Seeing my tear-stained face he became serious, putting down his bags and gathering me into a hug. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I told him it was nothing, just a silly argument in which I had over-reacted.

"Sounds like you need a good cup of tea," he said. Good old Tom: tea, his panacea for every ill. Smiling, I nodded and followed him into his house.

As we sat sipping our tea, industrial strength, as usual, I struggled to hide my upset. Tom probed gently, trying to elicit the story from me, but I couldn't bring myself to talk about it. I felt used and miserable, the usual sexual frisson I get with my Master entirely missing from the exchange in Sue's house.

Still, though, Tom continued to press me, and I began to divulge some of my feelings to him. I didn't go into the details of my relationship with my Master, although I'm sure Tom had a good idea about that anyway. He was a good listener, and sat patiently while I explained, without explicitly referring to it, how I felt the need to be dominated; how it was exciting to be put in a position where I could not dictate what happened; how it satisfied me to satisfy others. All the while, Tom sat watching me, a curious look on his face: I couldn't tell whether he had no idea what I was talking about, or whether he did, but didn't approve, or whether he was just surprised or, even, excited. I had no idea, but I felt happy revealing myself to this kindly old man.

"I'm not very good at telling people what to do, lass." he said after I had finished. "Men of my age mostly aren't. We had wives to do that sort of thing for us; we didn't get involved in disputes or arguments or such. But I get the feeling it's what you want, lass. It seems you want to be told what to do."

"Yes."

"Well, that's okay," he replied, "but you just need to be careful who you get to do the telling. There's people around here who aren't worth a tenth of what you are. Some people are best avoided." He said no more, but his eyes never left mine and after a moment I nodded imperceptibly, lowering my eyes. He was right, and I acknowledged the fact; silently we had agreed, and no more would be said about it.

"But," I said, at length, "you're not like that, are you? I can rely on you to tell me what to do?" I looked at him imploringly.

"Well," he said, adjusting himself on the seat nervously, "like I said, I'm not very good at that sort of thing."

"It's not so difficult," I soothed. "Tom, when did you last have sex?"

"Last week, lass, with you. Have you forgotten already? That bad was it?" His eyes twinkled as he teased me.

"No, I remember it perfectly. Every instant. For ever. But intercourse, I mean. When did you last have intercourse?"

"Oh God, lass. Probably before you were born, I expect," he laughed.

"Tom 3; please?"

Tom gulped the final mouthful of his tea and set the mug on the table. He knew what I was asking of him. "Harriet, take yourself upstairs and take your clothes off for me please. I'll be up shortly."

It was the most charming instruction I've ever been given.

I sat nervously on the edge of his bed, naked, awaiting his arrival. I heard the heavy tread of his feet on the stairs as he began to slowly ascend them. He appeared at the door and smiled.

"My, you're a gorgeous woman, Harriet. So beautiful. Such a grand body."

I felt tears well up in my eyes, and I stood and enveloped him in a bearhug. I began to undo his shirt buttons and peeled the shirt from him, revealing his scrawny chest, covered with a straggly mat of grey and white hairs. He was still in good condition, though, with no fat on his frame. I kissed him, feeling the scratchy texture of his unshaven cheek on mine and tasting the tea on his breath. He stood stiffly, still embarrassed by the turn of events. I turned to his trousers and began to divest him of them. Sitting back on the bed again, I pulled them clear of his legs and slid off his socks. He stood completely naked before me, his cock, proud beneath its greying patch of hair, already erecting. I fondled his balls and kissed the base of his prick. I was already damp, and I wanted him so much.

I slid myself back on his bed and lay looking up at him. "Let me look, lass," he said. I realised what he meant and parted my legs. He knelt close beside me and began to stare at my pussy, examining it with almost forensic concentration. I felt so good, being able to reveal myself like this for him.

"I've never really been able to look like this before," he said. "It's beautiful, so beautiful."

I smiled. "You can do more than look, Tom. If you'd like 3;"

"Oh, I would," he said. "Lass, I know you like to be told what to do, so I'm going to have sex with you, now."

I just loved that. Tom was so polite he couldn't say fuck, even when he was about to do it to me. "Yes, Tom, have sex with me now, please," I replied.

Slightly awkwardly he slid on top of me and tried to manipulate his cock into me. I reached down and grabbed it, slipping it into place between my lips. Tom felt it slotting home and smiled as he looked down on me; pushing gently - so very gently - he eased himself all the way inside me and rested on top of me for a moment, his cock buried deep within my vagina.

"Oh, Harriet, you don't know what this means to me."

"Tom, you have no idea what it means to me. I'm the happiest person in the world." Tom started to pump in and out, his cock sliding easily inside my well lubricated pussy. His long, spindly arms wrapped themselves around me, squeezing me, drawing me tighter against him. I felt so safe with him; I felt wanted; I felt needed.

The intensity of the moment, coming after my terrible experience earlier, heightened my excitement, increased my sensitivity. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure through my body; my pussy was alive, every nerve ending on red alert, reacting to the merest brush. I felt as though I were floating through space, being caressed and loved by a host of angels. Even my fingers, even my toes felt loved at that moment.

Tom's rhythm was changing, his strokes shorter and faster, and he leaned heavily against me, his face buried in my neck. I knew he was about to come.

"Oh please, Tom, please come inside me. I want you. Please." I whispered in his ear, cajoling him, loving him, exhorting him to come for me. Finally, it was too much for him. He grunted and lay on top of me, his hip grinding hard and fast against my body as he expelled his come inside me. I lay beneath him, exhilerated, feeling him tense and pulse, gratefully accepting his love. My lovely old man bucked and tensed above me as his climax sped through his body, his first inside a woman for - how many years? He rested above me, smiling gently at me, kissing my cheek, stroking my neck, holding me close. I felt the last few twitches of his cock inside me and as he slid off me a feeling of happiness, of trust swept over me with a force that I have never known before. I felt happier then, happier in the arms of my 70 year old lover, than I could ever remember.