Another age-gap filth fest from the dirty old man of erotica, D.F. Darke, as he introduces us to Bob, 82, who is visited by a young lady named Paige. She claims to be a friend of his grand-daughter's. She's really not. What she is will delight old Bob and the many readers who have enjoyed D.F. Darke's very naughty stories about old men getting dirty with much younger women.

"I really love old men," she said flirtatiously, biting her lip.
He flustered and said, "Oh well, there's old and there's old, of course," immediately regretting his words, wishing he'd engaged his brain before speaking.
This girl?who was probably in her early-to-mid-20s?probably meant men in their 40s or perhaps early 50s; not some codger in his 80s.
"So," she said, "shall I write Ellie a note?"
He got her a pad and pen, shoving the fact that this girl could have surely messaged Ellie on her phone, as young people did these days, to the back of his mind.
The pad and pen lay on the table, and she could have sat down. But instead, dropping her bag, she dramatically bent at the waist, sticking her peach-shaped bottom in the air, wiggling it, bending one leg slightly at the knee.
Bob felt his heart quicken and sweat run down the back of his neck.
Something pulsed in his groin.
My God, he thought. I'm getting an erection.
Paige scribbled and wiggled.
Bob stared and stiffened.
Then she looked at him, hair falling deliciously across her face. She twirled her tongue around the top of the pen suggestively. She fixed him and asked, "You're not looking at my ass, are you?"
"Goodness," he blustered, a bit panic-stricken: you didn't know these days if girls might report you to the police for the most innocent of things.
She turned to face him, leaning back on the table, pushing her breasts out.
"You're not making a move on me, are you?" she purred.
Bob said, "I'm old enough to be your grandfather, dear."
"I know you are, darlin', and that's what turns me on."