Eleanor Reaches The Big Five-O


My fiftieth birthday, the big five-O, I was so determined to treat it like any other day, “It’s just a number.” I said to myself speaking out loud as I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a bath towel around me, tucked it into my cleavage and walked back to my bedroom across the short landing. Reality soon disillusioned me as I removed the towel from my naked body in front of the wardrobe mirror.

“Good Lord Eleanor, the gal ain’t what she used to be,” I said with a grimace and turned quickly away to find my clothes and get dressed.

I made my way downstairs and entered my living-room, I had was just about getting used to living alone in the house that I once shared with my husband and where we were so happy, bringing up our daughter, but Sandra was now happily married, living not too far away with her husband Peter.

I made a cup of tea, one sugar and the toast jumped out of the toaster just as the phone rang; it was Jean a friend from my schooldays who also lives nearby. I put the portable handset to my ear and quickly pulled it away again as the voice on the other end bellowed, “Happy birthday Eleanor,” Jean always had a loud telephone voice. I crooked the phone between my shoulder and my ear and started to put a thin skim of butter on my toast, just two slices, then put them on a small plate before sitting in my favourite chair.

“So what does being fifty feel like?” Jean continued clearly enjoying ribbing me over my age.

“Well, it felt just fine Jean until you phoned,” I replied, she laughed.

“Look Eleanor, me and Maureen wondered if you would come out tonight and celebrate, you know just a quiet drink at the local pub, just the three of us.”

Maureen and her husband lived two doors away from Jean, she was a big woman, always had a weight problem, but I did envy her long – always shiny – black, shoulder-length hair, I have a weight problem myself but when I am in Maureen’s company she always makes me feel slim. Jean is the opposite, small and petite, a red head like me, she’s very pretty and is a few years younger than Maureen and has an infectious smile and tends to be great fun.

“OK,” I said, “what time?”

“We thought about eight o’clock, is that alright?”

“Fine, I will come around to yours we can meet up there.”

“Great Eleanor, see you then,” and she hung-up.

Before I had finished eating my toast and drinking my tea the phone rang again. This time it was Sandra, she always calls just before setting off to work.

“How’s the fifty-year old today?”

“Not you as well,” I said, “I have just had Jean on the phone rubbing it in.”

“Anyway, happy birthday Mum.” She said before asking me how I was.

I told her I was fine and that Jean and Maureen had invited me out for a few drinks.

“Oh, that should do you good, are you going?”

“Yes, of course, I am actually looking forward to it. I will need to go out and get something to wear and have my hair done.”

“Good for you Mum, I might come and join you all, and you never know you might just get yourself a bloke.”

“We are all meeting at eight o’clock at Jean’s and by the way, no thanks, I am allergic to men, thank you very much.”

She giggled and said, “OK I will believe you where thousands wouldn’t, see you at eight o’clock.”

“Don’t be late.” I said, making it sound like an instruction knowing her track record where punctuality is concerned.

“I’ll be there.” She said, “Enjoy your birthday Mum.”

I put the phone down and finished what remained of my toast and tea. I completed my usual chores and got ready to go into town, catching the local bus, Saturdays are always busy, the shops were full but eventually I found a lovely blue dress, treated myself to a new, white bra and matching panties, then to the hairdressers for my hair done before catching the bus home again.

Around six-thirty I started to get ready, out of my old clothes, washed and dried. I again stood in front of that damn mirror in my bedroom and let the towel drop to my feet. I can’t help looking, hoping it will be better than last time. “God my thighs look fat.” I said talking to the image of myself that stared back at me glumly.

Turning around and looking over my shoulder I didn’t like my bum any better than my fat thighs which met at the top, I could see the cellulite on the cheeks of my fat backside and the backs of my thighs and sighed for the days when they were really young, smooth and shapely. Wolf-whistles, how long is it since I’ve had one of those — never mind.

To think I used to roll my eyes up and tut whenever I got a wolf-whistle. I would probably do the same now, mustn’t let them think you like it.

Sitting on the edge of the bed I pulled on my new large knickers, stood up and wriggled my bum into them, I put on the new bra, fastening it at the front under my bust then pulled the cups around to the front squeezing my boobs into them before heaving the straps over my shoulders. The blue dress, which I hadn’t tried on before buying it, casino siteleri fitted perfectly, I felt sure it would.

Should I put some tights on? I toyed with the idea and decided it might be best. So again I sat at the bottom of the bed and slipped the tights over my feet and started to pull them up, over my knees, one of my better points, at least they are still round and shapely, then came the twinge right in the hollow of by back just as my black tights were about half way along my thighs.

I have had that same twinge before. I stood up and could feel a dull ache in the small of my back. With my blue dress pulled up to my waist I managed to pull my tights up over my knickers without too much trouble then smoothed my dress back into place.

As I made my way down stairs the dull ache brought back memories of when Tom was ill, he had died three years earlier and lifting him in and out of his wheelchair had caused a problem with my back that every now and again plagues me. Although I could feel it I was still moving freely enough and decided it was not going to stop me going out and enjoying myself.

Everyone turned up at Jean’s. Sandra was a bit late as usual but only a few minutes. We all walked to the local, it was pretty empty but that didn’t matter, we just wanted a few drinks and a good old chin wag.

We found a table and sat around in a group talking about the usual things, family, children, grandchildren and so on. Everyone commented on my new dress which was nice. The only downside to what was a nice evening was the dull, niggling pain in my lower back which was slowly getting worse.

After a visit to the loo, where I again had trouble pulling my panties and tights up, I returned to the table and very gingerly lowered myself into my seat. I was beginning to wish I had stayed at home, but the last thing I wanted to do was spoil what had become a very pleasant evening for the others.

It was Maureen who noticed my discomfort and said, “Eleanor you look to be in a lot of pain.”

“Yes, I have pulled a muscle in the small of my back getting my tights on just before I came out and it is tightening up.”

“Shall we get you back home?” Jean asked sympathetically.

“Oh no, I will be alright, anyway I am enjoying myself, it is my birthday you know.”

The women laughed and had one more drink each.

You could do with seeing our Steve about that back of yours.” Maureen said

Steve is Maureen’s son, about the same age as Sandra, roughly about 25 or so.

Sandra and Steve had been at school together and sometimes when they were babies Tom and I would babysit them both while Maureen and Bill, her husband, went out and they would repay the favour. Steve was a lovely lad and had grown into a fine, good-looking young man. I had completely forgotten about him being a chiropractor until Maureen just reminded me.

“He is very good and gives a good massage.” Maureen continued.

“Eh, I don’t care how good he is he is not massaging my body.” I said and the women laughed especially when Jean piped up with, “Steve can massage my body anytime he likes.”

“Me too,” Sandra took up the theme.

“Steady on girl, you are spoken for.” I reminded her.

We all went home feeling rather merry from the few drinks we had consumed.

I climbed the stairs and just about made it the bedroom. Unzipping the back of my dress was a major problem but eventually I did. I pulled it over my head not wanting to bend down and pick it up off the floor. There was that damn mirror again, that’s got to go I thought as I stood there in matching white bra and knickers with my tights pulled up to by belly. I rolled them down over my fat backside along with my knickers then slowly sat on the edge of the bed and taking my time managed to get them off and tossed them on the floor in a ball.

The clip of my bra easily came around to the front after dropping the straps. My bra ended up on the floor with my panties and tights. It was bad enough trying to get through the considerable pain barrier without seeing my saggy tits flop out.

“God Eleanor girl you look fifty.” I said as I got into my nightie and eased myself onto the bed and tenderly rolled myself under the sheets. Once in bed the pain receded somewhat and I fell asleep.

The sleep was fitful; I was awake at 7.00am and struggled even more to get my clothes on. My back was definitely getting worse by the minute.

“Never mind fifty,” I mumbled “you are a bloody old woman with a worn out body and too many wrinkles for your own good, and now I am nothing but an old crock. ” I need a damn good pick-me-up before I get too depressed, I thought.

What was it Sandra had said? “You never know you might just get yourself a bloke.” That’s a laugh and pigs might fly.

By nine o’clock the pain was increasing and I knew I had to do something. In desperation I phoned Maureen.

“Maureen I think I am going to need your Steve, do you think he can help?”

“What for his favourite Aunt? slot oyna Of course he will but he is at work and won’t be home until five, can you manage until then?”

“I’ll do my best.” I said, but I could have done with a bit more urgent treatment.

Steve had always called me Aunt ever since childhood and he still does. Now he is a handsome man with a shock of blonde hair, he is tall and I always thought that he and Sandra would someday get together, I couldn’t understand why they never had because I would have thought he could have had any woman he wanted and Sandra is also quite gorgeous, but it never happened. Steve has never married but there is always a string of attractive young females queuing up.

At five-thirty the phone rang.

“Hello Aunt Eleanor, what’s fifty feel like?”

“Oh for God’s sake don’t you start. As a mater of fact I am feeling more like seventy.”

“Look Aunt Eleanor, I have just got home, I am going to have my tea and I will be right over but it might be about seven o’clock, is that OK?”

I sighed heavily, another 90 minutes of this but what could I do? Anyway, was Steve just a long-shot, could he really help?

“Yes Steve seven o’clock will be fine.” I said.

“See you then Aunt Eleanor I will soon get you good and fixed.”

Seven on the dot the door bell rang and there stood Steve with his cheeky face and roguish smile and a bag in his hand which reminded me of one of those doctors’ bags.

“Come in.” I said, stepping aside to let him get through the door and into the living room.

He gave me a kiss on the cheek and wished me a belated happy birthday.

“That’s a joke,” I said, “Happy isn’t the word I would use.” I continued, by now almost bent double in pain.

“I’ll soon have you ship-shape Aunt Eleanor.” He said, sounding very confident which made me feel better.

“Please drop the Aunt bit, just call me Eleanor,” I groaned.

“I can see you are in considerable pain Aunt Eleanor,” he said, ignoring my invitation to drop the Aunt bit. “I think we will soon have you right again. Do you mind if I remove my coat?”

“Oh of course, please do.” I said as he took it off and laid it on the couch and putting his bag on the floor before looking around my living room.

“Here will do Aunt Eleanor,” he said pointing to the sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace.

“Pardon?” I responded not quite on the same wavelength.

“Here,” he said pointing with his finger. “Lay down here on your stomach and it will be helpful if you remove your blouse.”

What remove my blouse? Foolishly I hadn’t counted on that but it was obviously necessary, nevertheless, it was very embarrassing indeed, especially when he had to help me to slide it off as I stood stooped and in pain with my bra and a great deal of cleavage exposed before this young man who I had known from when he was only a baby.

Very gingerly with Steve’s help, I got to my knees and in considerable pain stretched out on the white, sheepskin rug. I felt his hand first between my shoulder blades.

“You are all tense and tight,” he said, “try to relax”. Then his fingers ran down my spine to the seat of my pain tenderly carrying out a careful examination of the affected area.

After a short while he suddenly struck me right where the pain was, I think it was with the heel of his hand, and I nearly jumped through the roof. God, I had never felt a pain like it in my life.

“Ok, ok, it’s alright now, it’s alright, your disk had popped out, it’s back now.”

I was so angry at this sudden pain that I shouted at him, “Fucking hell that was fucking painful.”

Realising what I said and the colour of my language I started to apologise.

Laughing he said “It’s alright Aunt Eleanor; I get that every day and far worse.”

Then I realised that the pain had gone. The relief was sheer heaven.

I started to get up and felt no difficulty at all.

“No Eleanor,” Steve said for the first time dropping the prefix Aunt bit, “Stay exactly where you are.”

“Do you know you are so tight and so highly-strung? I think you should have a massage just to loosen up a bit, it’s a freebie of course.” He said reaching for his bag and taking out a jar of specially prepared oils.

I didn’t think about my previous inhibitions and lay down again. A massage never had one in my entire life, this will be a new experience I thought and since I was half naked anyway I might as well let him get on with it.

“Just let me unclip your bra Eleanor, I will clip it up again once I have finished.”

I felt his fingers unclip the clasp of my bra and felt the wings fall to my side, I felt strangely exposed with my bust pressed into the sheepskin rug still in my bra cups.

Placing my hands under my forehead, palms down, with my elbows splayed out sideways he poured some oil onto his hands and began running them along my shoulders, out along my arms and back again before massaging my shoulder blades, his hands felt so firm but at the same canlı casino siteleri time so sensuous. All the time he was talking to me in the most soothing voice telling me to breathe in slowly and then let it out slowly.

“Breathe in through your nose and out through your toes, if you know what I mean” he said, “and just let your body relax with each breath you take.”

Positioning himself at the bottom of my feet he took hold of one foot after applying a little more oil to his hands and began massaging my toes after lifting my foot by bending my leg upwards at the knee then grasping my foot with both hands he rolled them vigorously. Then moving to the other foot he did the same again.

I was conscious of the view he might get up my skirt and made sure I kept my knees well clamped together, didn’t want him seeing my knickers.

A bit more oil and my carves where given the same vigorous treatment.

For a few seconds he removed his hands and did nothing then he was back straddling the bottom of my calves and reaching forward he ran his hands from the top of my skirt band all the way up to my neck and out along my arms to my elbows and back again, the strong masculine hands felt so firm and powerful as he repeated it over and over. This was amazingly, I was beginning to feel wonderfully relaxed.

“That’s good Eleanor, lovely now, relaxing nicely.” He said, his voice deep and husky, extremely sensuous and almost hypnotic.

Each time his hands returned from my neck down to the small of my back he sat back onto my heels which pressed in that area between his arse and his ball sac, I didn’t move, how could I, why would I? I hadn’t felt a man in years and this was a young, virile man and to my shame I was secretly enjoying the sensation. I was, however, shocked to feel him undo the button at the back of my skirt and pull the zip down a few inches so his hands could reach the base of my spine. I was thinking he would be able to see my panties for sure if he moved the zip down any further.

Now his hands were all over my back, neck and arms, so relaxing and soothing, yet so manly and forceful.

“Are you OK Eleanor, is it nice? Let me know if you want me to stop.”

“Oh, that’s fine thanks, lovely.”

“Good, that’s goooood” he said ever so soothingly, “Just relax now while I massage your calves again there is still a bit of tension there.

Moving to one side of me he wrapped his hands around one of my calves and rolled it forward with one hand while pulling back with the other, softening the muscle until it became loose in his hands then he did the same to the other.

“Does that feel good Eleanor?” he asked, “You will feel the benefit of this later I promise.”

I was feeling the benefit already, it was magical but it caused a deep intake of breath when he moved his hands on to the lower part of my thighs and began a deep massage moving part-way up my thighs under the hem of my skirt. I was aware that the back of my thighs were becoming slowly exposed but his masculine hands were sheer magic. Where on earth had he learnt to do this, was it just a natural gift?

“Are you OK Eleanor? I will stop if you are uncomfortable.”

What should I say? There was no doubt that it was wonderful but at the same time was I really in control or was he?

The answer quickly came when he wriggled my skirt down over my new, white knickers and down over my feet and started to massage my bum through my panties and then back to the tops of my thighs.

“You’re alright Eleanor just relax don’t tighten up, you are doing very well.”

It was him that was doing very well; he was getting my clothes off without one word of protest from a woman twice his age.

His hands were back massaging through my panties then moved back down to my thighs again and he was massaging the top fleshy part where the flab of my thighs meet each other.

Soon he was sat on my lower-carves again deeply massaging my thighs, buttocks and back. With each movement backwards and forwards I could feel his balls pressing against the backs of my knees. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the exotic experience, especially the occasional feel of cock touching my thigh. Did he realise that I could feel everything? There was nothing much left to the imagination as to what was between his thighs. I bit my lower lip.

How long had it been since I had felt between a young man’s thighs, felt a pair of balls rubbing against me, felt a cock, could it really be as big as it felt?. It was certainly twenty years since I had felt anything even remotely so exotic; in fact I had never felt anything as erotic in my life. Did he know what I could feel? Surely he must know.

“Just lift up slightly Aunt Eleanor.”

I raised my head.

“No not your head Eleanor, your buttocks.” He giggled.


“Your bum, lift your bum.”

I lifted my bum as he wanted and my knickers were down, over my thighs and knees and left around my ankles.

“Oh good Lord, you’ve pulled my knickers down Steve.” I heard myself gasp.

“Oh sorry Eleanor, if this is upsetting please say stop and I will but this will make you feel wonderful and deeply relaxed. There’s nothing to worry about, you have a beautiful bum anyway.”

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