My girlfriend Marie and I enjoyed reckless getaways from our homes, from our jobs, from our lives. Life should be fun, right? We really knew how to ditch work and other realities. We'd go away, fuck until we were sore, then we'd rest, fuck some more, and go back home to recuperate and deal with the rest of life. Quite unexpectedly, our last getaway had turned into a frat-house orgy, and it brought out a side of Marie that I'd never seen before. For one, it was evident that she had a lot more sexual experience with guys than I had previously thought. She had technique that would rival a pro, and she had stamina. How naïve I'd been to think that she was an innocent, inhibited intellectual. She had demonstrated a bi-side of her that I never would have dreamt was there. Marie was always a highly assertive woman, but she had acted quite the submissive to a dominatrix.
I had always known that Marie kept personal secrets very, very well. On the other hand, she made no secret of the fact that she had always been attracted to older guys – like me, for instance, I'm fifty-two. She boasted that at seventeen she was dating a thirty-two year old guy. Beyond that, she told me nothing, other than that the twenty-plus year difference between us was "nothing" to her. How old had her lovers been, I wondered.
I tried my best to contain my questions. She was very private, and she would have resented it if I had tried to pry information out of her. Instead, I mentally reviewed every scrap of information that she had ever given me. I constructed a profile, so to speak.
She was raised by an unassertive mother, an alcoholic father, and a drill sergeant grandfather that overcompensated for his ne'er-do-well sons. One was an alcoholic, the other was a perpetual adolescent, ever enthralled with cars. No, she had not been sexually abused, but she had been the only girl among lots and lots of male energy. They had lived on a ranch, and she was surrounded by lots of crude jokes and stories. She had seen animals of all kinds (and a few humans) copulating.
She was extremely bright, and she learned from everything she encountered. She gave up her virginity at seventeen thanks to her older suitor, but she had experienced sex in other ways even before age eleven. She had played with herself, and, of course, she had watched the animals. She knew male and female rutting behavior like the back of her hand. She raised dogs until the hormones hit in adolescence. Then, the alpha dog on the ranch would aggressively try to mate her. She said he would growl at any human male that came near her day or night. She was having increasing difficulty keeping him from mounting her, and his ever-ready dog cock was beginning to tempt her more than she'd like. That was the end of male dogs for her, and they literally had to put that dog down.
Although she had great rapport with animals, she had lost all respect for parental authority when her drunken father jacked off the family dog in front of her and her mother. Her mother would have ignored it, but my girlfriend knew it was time for a divorce. They continued to live with the paternal grandfather (the real alpha male of the household) and my girlfriend was subjected to military discipline. This included a lot of barked orders, and discipline that was merciless. Marie got several pants-down spankings when she was way too old -- like, age fourteen. (I can only imagine what the old man saw between his granddaughter's legs as he reddened her ass.) Kinky as that was, I thought it was a significant key: She was used to submitting to older male authority during astoundingly intimate moments.
That probably accounted for my luck with her. I didn't think that I would have had a chance with a twenty-eight year woman when I was hitting fifty. Still, I had nothing to lose from asking. My line wasn't much better than,
"You wanna fuck?"
I didn't know it until later, but Marie had already been trying to seduce me, so she was way ready. She said, in that meek, coy voice she gets when she's sexy,
"I guess."
And the rest was history. Marie was prudish and demur during the day, and really, really sexy in bed. She did everything: Oral, anal, bondage, etc., and she did it really well. She didn't drink too much or smoke. She was brutally honest. On the other hand, she didn't say much. I always knew that there was lots, and lots that I didn't know about her.
So what had I seen at the orgy? I had learned four things. One, that she would participate in an orgy. Previously, I had thought her to be a very private and modest person. Two, that she seemed very experienced at getting guys to cum. She could use her hands, mouth, cunt, or ass – once, she even used her feet on me. Three, she demonstrated a technique that was new to me. When the guys were screwing her ass, she had reached behind and she had masturbated them while they pumped away. Four, she could get it on with women, in particular, she did a great job as a Sub to a Dom mistress. Normally, she had little respect for persons of her own gender.
I wanted to ask questions and learn more about her history, but I knew not how. I waited and waited. I never lost my curiosity. One day, I saw an opportunity. Something we had talked about prompted her to say,
"You know me -- I like older guys."
We were relaxed. We had time.
"Like, how old?"
"How about thirty-two when I was seventeen?"
I knew about that one.
"That's only a 15-year's difference. I'm twenty year's older than you."
She thought about it, and decided to give a serious reply.
"Probably, say, forty-years. I'd have been about twenty, they were in their late fifties and early sixties."
I was astounded -- not just at the age difference -- she had said, "they," as in plural. Just what-the-hell was she doing when she was twenty? I tried to keep cool.
"Any women?" I said in my most nonchalant voice.
"No. I was never attracted."
I was relieved, but then she continued,
"Until, you know, that time at the hotel. You were going to take me back there, remember?"
She made it seem so matter of fact. She wasn't joking. She was serious.
"I remember. I will."
I didn't want this to distract me from my earliest questions: How old? Where? What? When? So I said,
"Did you say, 'they' were in their sixties? How did you meet guys that old? Were they college professors?"
She laughed, and said,
"You really want to know, don't you? Well, sit tight, this ought to be one of the Canterbury Tales!"
What Marie told me knocked me on my ass. My sweet, sheltered, prim and proper girlfriend had been introduced to swinging when she was twenty. It suited her very well because she was among mostly couples in their late thirties on up, and they were, in her words, "housebroken." They were mature. They made no demands on her. She didn't have to date. She wasn't tied down, and she was always the center of attention because she was young but socially mature.
What my girlfriend didn't say was that, at age twenty, she must have looked like sex-candy. Marie always had a girlish figure – she still did. She knew all the tricks of animal husbandry from the ranch, and she was squeamish about nothing sexually. She liked older guys, and she liked male energy in general. I wondered: Had she learned all of that through swinging?
Swinging at age twenty with couples in their thirties was only a ten to twenty-year difference, not a forty-year age difference, so I asked her to work out the math. In that matter-of-fact tone she adopts when serious, she said,
"When you're single and swinging, you don't want to get stuck with the same couples. You mix it up, and it turned out that the real die-hards of the club were older, like, couples in their forties and fifties. There were few single women in that category. Most of us single women were younger."
Listening to this, I was beginning to get worried. I just had to ask the question that should never be asked:
"How many guys do you think you slept with?"
