Peter, a strapping octogenarian with a mane of silvery-white hair, found himself in his garden one sunny afternoon. The weather was warm, and the scent of flowers filled the air. He was tending to his roses when he heard a rustle behind him.
Turning around, he saw Natasha, a young woman of nineteen with curves that could make a man's heart race. She was wearing a flimsy dress that left little to the imagination, and her 38EE breasts were barely contained by the fabric.
Peter's eyes widened as he took in the sight of her, and he felt a stirring in his pants. His cock, already impressive at 11 inches, began to swell.
Natasha sauntered over to Peter, a sultry look in her eyes. "Hello, Peter," she purred, her voice like honey.
Peter swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves. "H-hello, Natasha," he stammered, his voice hoarse.
Natasha stepped closer, pressing her body against his. "I've been thinking about you all day," she whispered in his ear, her breath hot against his skin.
Peter's heart raced as he felt her hands on his chest, her fingers tracing circles on his skin. He groaned as she leaned in, her lips meeting his in a passionate kiss.
Their tongues dueled, and Peter's hands roamed over Natasha's body, squeezing her ass and cupping her breasts. He could feel her nipples harden beneath her dress, and he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Peter's cock was rock-hard now, and he could feel it straining against his pants. Natasha must have felt it too, because she broke the kiss and sank to her knees in front of him.
With a wicked grin, she reached for his fly, undoing it with a flick of her fingers. His cock sprang free, and Natasha's eyes widened as she took in its size.
She wasted no time, taking him deep into her mouth. Peter groaned as he felt her lips wrap around his shaft, her tongue swirling around him. He could feel her throat contract as she swallowed him down, and he knew he wouldn't last long.
But Natasha wasn't done with him yet. She pulled back, licking and sucking on his balls before standing up. "Fuck me, Peter," she breathed, her voice husky with desire.
Peter didn't need to be asked twice. He spun her around, bending her over and hiking up her dress. He positioned himself behind her, his cock pressing against her wet pussy.
Natasha moaned as he entered her, her pussy stretching to accommodate his size. Peter grabbed her hips, thrusting into her hard and deep.
They set a punishing rhythm, their bodies slapping together as they fucked. Natasha reached between her legs, her fingers playing with her clit as Peter pounded into her.
Peter could feel himself getting close, his balls tightening as he approached his climax. Natasha must have felt it too because she begged him to cum inside her.
With a roar, Peter came, filling her pussy with his seed. Natasha milked him dry, her pussy contracting around his cock as she came too.
They collapsed onto the grass, panting and spent. Peter looked over at Natasha, her body glistening with sweat and his cum.
But their moment of peace was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Natasha's parents appeared, their faces dark with anger.
"What the fuck is going on here?" her father demanded, his fists clenched.
Peter and Natasha exchanged a glance before scrambling to their feet. "We were just... uh..." Peter began, but Natasha cut him off.
"We were having sex, Dad," she said defiantly. "And it was amazing."
Her father spluttered, his face turning red with anger. But Natasha just grinned, grabbing Peter's hand and leading him back to the house.
They spent the rest of the day in bed, fucking in every position imaginable. They made each other cum over and over again, their bodies slick with sweat and cum.
And as they lay spent in each other's arms, Peter couldn't help but smile. At 87, he had never felt more alive.