Bad Pussy From Last Century

When I was 20 years old, I saw my first old pussy. It was bad. I was working in a doctor’s office, and many of our patients were old and infirm. There were probably just as many who were skeevy and perverted but that is a story for another day.

Anyway, a lot of these old people had nobody to talk to except their cat or the television, and they thrived on every moment of those singular interactions most of us hurry through and think nothing more of. Like the guy that pumps our gas or the lady behind the counter at the coffee shop or the clerk at the bank drive through. So you felt sorry for these people because they were longing for any sort of human contact they could get whether it was physical, emotional, or just having someone they could talk at.

I quickly learned that no matter how sorry you felt for them it was dangerous to linger too long in a room. Old people have absolutely no modestly and no qualms about telling you their whole life story in great detail.

As soon as you brought them into a room, they started disrobing before you could even close the door. You’d get an eye full of unfurled breasts hanging down to the waist, flappy chicken skin under the arms, sagging breasts like ziplock bags half full of chicken fat and that was a lot of the men, not to mention the balls hanging down to their knees or the red psoriasis encased dick that would sometimes just slip out of their boxers when they sat down.

All these were nothing compared to that ancient pussy I saw.  The owner must have been in her 90s. She had her hair up in two long grey braids swirled around the top of her head and fixed in place with a whole arsenal of bobby pins in various colors. She was quite incoherent, probably the beginning stages of Alzheimers or the later stages of alcoholism also known as wet brain. These patients were the ones I asked few questions of because it was either going to be nonsense that wasn’t even words, or they would suddenly become totally lucid and every answer was likely to be extremely long and begin somewhere about 1963 and would usually delve into extremely personal things about bowels bladders prostate glands dentures, sexual injuries, and dead dogs.

Anyway back to the owner of the old pussy, I gave her a gown and asked her take off her top and bra and told her she could leave her pants on and to put the gown on opening in the back. She was modest enough to wait until I left the room before she began undressing. Unfortunately I didn’t realize what was going to be waiting for me. She did put the gown on the right way, she just took off everything including her underpants.  I was unaware of this when I came into the room and helped her up onto the table. She laid down on her back, put her knees up, spread her legs and flashed me her cunt.

It was like no horror I had experienced before. I was a mere child and if there was a god or if god is a decent person I shall never have to see anything like this again. It was a sickly greyish yellow, and resembled two pieces of turkey cold cuts dangling there, after they had been dragged over the carpeting and had picked up a few really long grey dog hairs and some carpet fibers.

I could not believe the sparsity of the hair, and how long and flat the lips were. They were gargantuan. I thought to myself I would be very surprised if they did  not make a flapping noise. After I was done and helping her off the table I actually listened for the slapping sound. I did hear something but couldn’t tell if it was her pussy lips in action or her letting a couple farts slip out.

I decided that day there was another reason to never allow myself to become old even if it meant blowing my head off with my toe in the trigger of a shot gun.