Ramblings Of An Old Man - S01 E01

Story 4 days ago

Ramblings Of An Old Man - S01 E01

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 1

As an old man, in my seventies, who has been given the nod by my doctors that my days are numbered, I spend a lot of time looking back at my life. Recalling what I have done and achieved. Regretting the things I should have done and did not do. I do not suppose for a moment this is unusual, but when it happens to you, it takes it out of you, initially at least. Do not get me wrong, I have come to accept my imminent demise and am mostly at peace with it. I think the song, Angels, sums up my feelings best – “I’m not scared of dying, I just don’t want to.”, yet.

I never planned on these thoughts going public. It was just a few scrappy notes for my own consumption. The ramblings of an old man, as it were. But one of the individuals concerned saw those notes. They thought that others may identify with some of the situations and suggested I tidy them up into a story and post them on your forum. This series, if it goes that far, is the result. My true-life story, but memories fade at my age, so some liberties may have been taken with details.

If you are expecting beginning to end, dirty, perverted sex, it’s not for you, you don’t have to read it. Bug out now…no hard feelings. And I don’t profess to be a literary genius; so, if my writing style and grammar offend you, you know where the ‘close’ button is!

Part 1 – My Formative Years

As the sands of time are rapidly running out for me, I find myself reminiscing my past. Whilst my earthly life has but a brief period to run, my sex life effectively died some years ago. All I have is memories, so it is not surprising sex recollection plays a dominant role in my thoughts. It is all I have left.

Not that my journey was that outstanding anyway. I was not deflowering multiple virgins on a weekly basis, giving them back-to-back orgasms during their first sexual experience. No, it was a very ordinary, terribly slow journey. Like everyone’s sexual journey, it started in my formative years.

I was born during the mid 1950s, in Southeast England, the middle of three siblings. Growing up with a sister, three years my senior, I was aware from an early age of the physical differences between boys and girls. Additionally, although they did not flaunt their sexuality, my parents were not prudes, so I was no stranger to men and women’s bodies either. My mother had large, pendulous breasts and, as the era dictated, a full dark pubic bush, both of which fascinated me, though I had no idea why at the time.

Like most kids of the era, and possibly still today, first genital contact came through play; the favourite game being Hospital. Of course, being 20th century, only the boys could be doctors, the girls had to be the nurses, though both could double as the patients. Fortunately, my sister could bring several of her girlfriends to the game, and I the boys. A large wooden garden shed, designated as a playhouse, made the perfect medical facility.

Games would start quite innocently, with imaginary broken limbs and exotic diseases treated. Inevitably though, as things progressed, more clothes would need to be removed and genitals examined, palpitated, and probed. Even all these years later, I distinctly recall that one treatment involved me, as the senior doctor, inserting an erect penis into some hapless patient's vagina or anus. Again, I had no idea why. It just seemed the natural thing to do. I do not believe full penetration occurred, but it felt good anyway.