I told this story several years ago here, but it most certainly applies.
Back in 1969 -at 18- I returned home from a year as an exchange student to find, among other changes, that my brother's best friend, who was two years older than I, had gotten a girl pregnant and married her, and was now a father. Because they were the only people in our group who lived like "real adults" in their own apartment, they were also the site of the best parties. New years eve was a great one.
Let me stop, to say that Cathy was a year older than I and just drop dead gorgeous. She was from the next suburb over and Craig had met her at his summer job. When I came back to the U.S. and met her, she was very sweet and friendly, at it was obvious that she was doing her best imitation of a homemaker that should could muster. While I enjoyed the company of both Cathy and Craig, she seemed very much into her new family. Still, it was hard not to look at her and lust.
Back to the party. Their baby was in a back room, and I had gone back that way to use the bathroom, and on the way back stopped to look at him sleeping. Cathy was in the room and quite intoxicated. Standing next to her, and with judgement seriously impaired by alcohol, I slid next to her until our hips were touching. She smiled at me and said, "I never got the chance to give your your happy new year kiss". As I turned for what I thought was going to be a pleasant but quick, perfunctory kiss, she wrapped a hand behind my head and pulled by face down and around to hers for a long, full on the lips kiss. When she lightened her pull on my neck and we broke off the kiss, I was hard as a rock. She, meanwhile, just smiled sweetly and went back to her guests.
I followed shortly thereafter back to the main room, and figured that I'd better slow the drinking down before I got in trouble with her. Still, the party continued, and after a fashion, and more beer, I headed back to the bathroom. When I came out and walked past the baby's room, she was atanding by the crib. Lacking any good judgement, I joined her, and this time she said nothing, but pulled my head down, opened her mouth and we kissed for what seemed like a very long time. By about 5 am as the last guests were finally leaving, I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. I asked Cathy where Craig was, and she told me he was passed out drunk. A second of two of silence, and I was doing what I thought was going to be kissing her goodbye, albeit with a lot more tongue than the typical peck that a departing guest gets.
As we separated and I mumbled some sort of goodbye, she told me I couldn't go yet. I wasn't presumptuous enough to assume anything other than that I was going to get a little more making out with her, when she said, "you've been getting hard all night and it's my fault. Let me make you cum." She absolutely took my breath away with those words. While I was afraid that Craig might wake up, she assured me he wouldn't. I asked where we could go to get undressed (the living room sounded like a bad idea) and she very forthrightly told me, "I'll have to just jack you off. Craig might want to fuck me later and he might notice if I've just done it with you."
I'm not sure if I was disappointed at the time -I just don't remember- but what I remember clearly is that when she unzipped my pants and took my cock out, I came when she had maybe stroked it twice.
I also remember quite clearly that she told me as I was leaving, "Call me Monday in the afternoon and we can get together", leaving me anticipating that I would finally get to fuck her.
(Not new years eve, but two days later, I discovered that sweet, innocent looking young Cathy was a major nymphomaniac. After calling her we wound up naked in her bed, and as I was struggling to get in her, she said, "Let me get the vaseline. I need it with almost everyone I go to bed with." I thought she was sort fo joking, so I said, "ALL those men, huh?" And she replied, "Well, it not THAT many, but if guys are nice to me, I let them have sex with me. I like it." As I later found out, she really meant that: she would fuck almost anyone. And she was so damn tight I can STILL remember what that pussy felt like!!)
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And fast forwarding to about a year ago, I have moved back to my old home town and became curious about women I used to know, among them Cathy. I was able to determine that she does still live in this city and is single. (She divorced Craig decades ago and hasn't remarried). I sent her a brief note on Facebook, basically just saying hello. I got a reply that included the suggestion that we should grab a cup of coffee and catch up.
It's worth noting here that I'm 65 and she's a year older than I am. I've gotten used to the fact that all the old friends that I recall from back in my 20's are less than alluring these days, so I didn't exactly have high expectations. When we met, it was obvious that she takes very good care of herself, and dresses beautifully, but the passage of time was obvious. We met at a cafe with outdoor tables and chatted over coffee for a half hour or so. We talked about where life had taken us but really didn't discuss our encounter in the past, since there really wasn't much to talk about. After all for each of us the other was someone that you haven't talked to in over 40 years, who you never really knew well in the first place, and with whom the sum total of your relationship was that you fucked a few times.
I couldn't resist thinking about the sex we had, however, and then it dawned on me that she could hardly not have thought of it as well, since there hadn't been much else. Even though I knew it might put her off to bring the subject up, I figured that the worst that could happen is that she would simply cut the conversation short and leave. I said, "Cathy I have to tell you: you were an young man's wet dream. I still think of you jacking me off at that New Year party."
There was a half beat of silence and she said, "I probably liked sex a little too much when I was young." I laughed and said that I did too, but I never grew out of it. I told her that I wish that I had had then the perspective that I have now.
She asked what I meant and I said, "I think I was a little put off by things then. If that were now, I suspect I would have just enjoyed it and not much cared who else you were doing." (Mind you there was nothing about this encounter that made talking to her like that appropriate or that indicated it would be welcome. I just didn't think I had much to lose.)
She was quiet for a minute, and I figured that I had offended her. I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be presumptuous." She smiled and said, "No, it's OK. I was just thinking about how long ago that was and how much time and experience change us." I was fairly sure she was telling me, in essence, 'That was me then, not me now' and found myself thinking how incredibly exciting she had been way back then. I really didn't know where to take the conversation and I genuinely couldn't think of much to say. I looked at her and said, "Cathy, it's been fun seeing you again. I guess we should get going."
I walked her back to her car and held the door for her as she got in. As I was standing in the open door I thought of the story of the guy who asked every girl he met if he could have sex with her, and claims that he got slapped a lot, but he also got laid a lot: what could it hurt to ask? As I was trying to screw up the courage to suggest we meet again, she said, "I'd let you have sex with me if you want."
She remains an interesting contradiction. I don't think anyone looking at this very good looking older woman would guess that she will fuck at the merest suggestion. She doesn't have a flirtatious personality, nor does she act suggestively. But in the past several months I have never once had her say "no" when I've called and asked if I could come over. Just for fun, and to see what her reaction would be, I have called her and simply asked, "Can I come over and fuck you?", and I get a completely serious, straightforward answer, as though it were just a normal question. I have called her and asked if she wanted to go grab lunch, and been asked if I wanted sex before or after lunch (I actually asked, "Am I that predictable?", to which she replied, "No, but I know you like to fuck me, and I just need to know if I need to be ready when you get here."
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