In my single-in-my-50s years, I discovered that a week of flirting online with a woman in her 40s/50s was generally enough to get her into my bed.
One lady was incredibly enthusiastic online, very flirty, lots of sex talk, can’t wait for Friday. She said she lived with her mother, sister and daughter, and sister could be abusive, so we agreed I’d drive to hers, pick her up, drive back to mine. I did this, although driving into and out of London was a pain.
Once back at mine we sat on the sofa and started drinking wine. Then she said her phone was ringing, went out of the room, came back five minutes later “it’s all kicked off at home, I have to go”. I was convinced there hadn’t been a phone call and she had cold feet. (Yes, she’s entitled to, but I prefer not to be lied to.) Ever the gentleman, I said I’d drive her home, no hard feelings. (See what I did there?)
So the worst sex was no sex, although I might have escaped easily from a woman with too many issues to be tangled up with.
But the best thing was as we drove away from my house, before we got to the end of the street, my car had a puncture. So she had to get a taxi, which she whined about a bit, as she “worked freelance” and had very little money. But I didn’t offer to pay for it. Bye then.
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