"Oh yeah, that's it, get that tongue way up inside me." Jesus, this rich bitch sure loved to eat pussy. I could tell she was inexperienced, but she definitely made up for it with her enthusiasm. I sat on the lid of the toilet, my teenage legs spread wide, as she knelt between my creamy thighs with her expensive clothes on, her face plastered against my tingling wet cunt.
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I was 18, almost out of high school and decided that I was missing something in my life. I felt as if there was more out there than I was experiencing and I wanted to find it. So after thinking it over I enrolled in the exchange program offered through my school. After careful consideration and deciding that the best way for me to get the most out of the experience was to not choose the obvious countries of choice by most students: France, Italy, Germany, Spain; but instead to get my grand life experience in the Orient, particularly Japan.
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I had been married for 10 years but was newly divorced and on the dating scene again. I was raring to get out there, flaunt my stuff and have fun for once in my adult life. Since I was a bit older than most of my competition at the bars and clubs I hung out at, I had to work a little harder than the 20-somethings to make myself look "hot."
I worked out five times a week, watched what I ate and I didn't smoke or drink more than a few glasses of wine with dinner.
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Helen was a little surprised when the doorbell rang at precisely nine a.m., exactly when the contractor had told her that the workers would arrive to build her new deck. She was even more surprised when she opened the door and saw two young men who couldn't be more than twenty years old.
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My friend, George, the sleeping car attendant, teases me with a double entendre private nickname. He calls me "All-Aboard Betty." Let me explain. I have necessarily drawn George into a conspiracy because I need him to achieve my purpose during periodic journeys aboard The Frontier, a transcontinental passenger train. When I'm aboard the Frontier becomes instead the Piece Train. (Apologies to Yusuf Islam. The devil made me do that.)
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I hung up the phone and waited to be buzzed in, maneuvering the box in my left arm so I could see my watch. Shit. Five after eight. Almost on time. Well, if I was going to be late, this was the night to do it. The normally frigid March weather was glorious. Most of the snow had melted and I'd opted for sandals instead of my usual choice of sneakers. How'd I gotten stuck babysitting on a Saturday night like this again?
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I was feeling dejected. The latest girl I had asked to the Sweetheart Dance, had rejected me out of hand. At twenty-two, I wasn't a bad looking guy it's just that the local Monterey women had plenty of men stationed at Fort Ord from which to choose.
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I'm going to do what they say people of my age (the thick end of sixty plus) are best at; I'm going reminisce about my youth. For me this was towards the end of the nineteen-fifties, when rock-and-roll ruled over drainpipe trousers and drape jackets and everyone jived to Elvis, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, etc. In England it was the time of the 'ton-up boy' who rode motorbikes with British names and who wore leather jackets liberally sprinkled with metal studs.
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I've always felt attracted to younger men.
Some time ago, there was family living next to me in our small neighborhood. This was several years after my husband had died. I'd finally begun to feel somewhat whole again and yet the loneliness was getting me down. I had sexual cravings I hadn't felt in a long time and thought I'd go crazy if they weren't satisfied by someone, and soon.
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Please vote, comments are always welcome. All persons in this story are over 18
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There was luggage in the entryway when Daniel opened the door to his apartment. From the burgundy color alone he was pretty sure it was his mother's, the monogram on the side, GHM, confirmed his suspicions. He took a moment to look it over, too many bags for just a visit.
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