Home-Made Porn with the Old Man Next Door: Husband Films His Hot Young Wife Having Sex with Their Elderly Neighbor

Gemma Cartwright is a hot young wife. The 24-year-old likes older men. That’s why she fell for, and married, Tony, who is in his 50s. And Tony likes the idea of seeing his wife with mature guys—his idea of horny is to film his gorgeous missus misbehaving with men in their 80s—and then upload the footage online. Gemma’s up for it. But will 81-year-old Mr. Hughes next door be an able co-star? More filthy age gap action from DF Darke, the dirty old man of erotica, as the lovely Gemma indulges in all manner of sexual acts with a very old man. The author once again brings to life vividly the thrill of shooting porn, and the down right dirtiness of old-and-young sex.

EXTRACT
Neither Tony nor I know exactly how porn scenes are shot professionally. Software has made it possible for any Tom, Dick, or Tony to shoot movies these days; you can edit on your PC, which is exactly what Tony plans to do.
“Come on the, gorgeous,” Tony says, “let’s go excite our geriatric neighbor.”
I follow Tony across the landing.
He opens the door to our spare bedroom and there he is, my 81-year-old neighbor, my elderly co-star, my wrinkly sex partner.
He is in his PJs, blue and nylon. He stands up, eyes gaping at me, clearly thrilled by what he sees.
“Mrs. Cartwright, my dear, oh my, good morning, you look lovely,” he waffles on.
“Hi, Mr. Hughes,” I say, smiling, not sure how to greet him. We never have physical contact when we see each other. It’s always “hello” or “Good morning.” But I think, We are going to be naked in a bit, so I nervously give him a chaste, not-much-contact hug.
“Oh my, you have lovely perfume on,” he says, voice trembling.
Tony says, “Shall we quickly go through the script?”
“Yes, yes, so we know our acting roles and so on,” blusters Mr. Hughes. “What do you say, Mrs. Cartwright?”
Although he calls Tony by his first name, Mr. Hughes has always called me “Mrs. Cartwright.” I don’t know if it’s an age thing. Maybe he feels closer in age to Tony—although there is a good 30 years between them. I always call him Mr. Hughes because of the age difference; he’s so much older than me, and it’s a respectful thing. But then I say:
“You can call me Gemma, Mr. Hughes, since we are going to be quite good friends.”
“Oh yes, of course, and you must call me Arthur.”
“OK, deal,” I say, giggling.
Tony goes through the scenario: I’m the cleaning girl who comes into the bedroom to find the old man asleep...