The Old Men

Lindsey didn’t want to pick any of the present men, so instead she played a quick round of eeny, meeny, miny, moe. The game of chance landed on the two old men at the corner table. The reasonable part of her mind begged her not to follow through, but she couldn’t risk disobeying Hubert.

“Morning, Sweet-Cheeks,” the man on the right laughed.

“Murray, watch your words,” the other chided, Lindsey feeling slightly at ease with the chastisement. “She’s obviously more of a Jugs,” he laughed, and Lindsey’s stomach clenched in knots all over again.

The two men laughed, and Murray cut in, “My bad, what was I thinking Cyril. Well, Jugs what can we do for you? Need a seat?” Murray patted his lap, encouraging Lindsey to sit.

Lindsey stayed standing her coffee clutched before her. She swallowed her trepidation, might as well just get it out. “Can I blow one of you?”

The two men looked to each other, Murray asked, “What did she say?”

Cyril shrugged his shoulders, “I’m not sure. You’ll have to speak up Jugs, our hearing isn’t quite what it used to be.”

“Or you can always come closer,” Murray grinned, patting his lap once again.

Lindsey couldn’t bring herself to make the request any louder while in public. So she stepped closer and Murray moved surprisingly fast for his age, pulling her into his lap. She yelped, Murray’s hand clasped over her thigh mere inches from her bare crotch. She caught sight of the frat guy pointing his phone their direction. She smoothed her skirt, hoping that she was covered from his angle.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Cyril smirked, he leaned forward his elbows on the table, his wrinkled hands clasped. “Now how can we help you?”

Lindsey found a scrap of confidence to repeat the request, “Can I blow one-yieee,” her attention pulled away as Murray’s hand slid high enough for him to discover her lack of panties.

“Jugs, you naughty minx,” Murray slid a knobby finger over her slit, “not wearing any panties while propositioning a couple of old geezers like us.”

Cyril sipped from his mug, “It’s been a while since we’ve shared a broad.”

Murray purred as a finger slipped into her, “Mmm, that tight little Korean whore. You lost your wallet and I only had enough for the one girl.”

“Mmm, she didn’t have nearly as nice tits as Jugs,” Cyril smiled, a gleam in his eye, “Remember that one USO gal, the top heavy one that fell off the stage.”

“It’s hard to forget when an angel falls into your lap,” Murray laughed, “Too bad she was wearing panties, unlike this one.”

Cyril rose from his seat, “I believe the lady requested to blow us. We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting. Plus I want to join in on the fun,” he gestured to where Murray’s hand was wedged between her legs.

Lindsey stammered, “I-I actually,” she looked for the words. How to tell these two men that she actually only wanted to blow one of them, not both.

Cyril grabbed Lindsey’s hand. His skin a leathery brown with bright white hair, in contrast to Murray’s pale skin and gray horseshoe of hair leaving the top bald. Both were fit, although Cyril’s grip felt stronger than Murray’s. She wasn’t sure which to pick or how to break the news, but she was running low on time as the two men guided her to the restroom.