One of my editors thinks this is the hottest stroke story he has every read. Another said it wasn't a stroke story—it was a stroke, stroke, stroke story. I think it may have taken a year to submit because it can be so slow typing with only one hand.
Often tongue in cheek, this is an attempt to include as many sexual activities as I could think of, at least those that I find enjoyable. We have straight sex, oral sex, anal sex, ATM, mature, impregnation, lesbian sex, a very tiny bit of romance and even a loving wives component. I wasn't sure on the correct category...humor?
There's no Sci-Fi, BDSM, gay male, mind control, transsexual, non-consensual, nonhuman, interracial or scat. I don't enjoy those so I don't write about them. Oh, yes, I forgot...people cheat...just like they do in the real world every day.
This is a tad long; it's been rattling around on my hard drive for a year and it's time to submit and move on to other topics.
Caution: this is not a love story! It is pure stroke with a bit of humor. Please don't send me feedback saying it is unbelievable---of course it is!
The Retirement Years, Prologue and First Chapter
At fifty-eight Frank had enjoyed a full and rewarding life. His two children from his first marriage were grown and well adjusted and successful in their own right. Jim's second wife, a number of years his junior was a successful executive who still enjoyed the world of work in spite of the fact that Frank's success had enabled him to retire younger than most men. Frank often joked that he was busier since he had retired a year earlier than he had been when he worked full time. He loved working with his hands and enjoyed building things and tinkering. He wrote several hours each day. His two pups were like special children to whom he devoted hours of attention.
Frank had fooled around during his first marriage almost incessantly. He had in fact had numerous affairs and dozens of one night stands. Head over heels in love with his second wife, Frank had vowed to change his ways and had been faithful for the fifteen years of their marriage. His second wife, Bonnie, was a very attractive woman with a more than ample libido. While she often worked long hours by choice, their sex life was more than satisfactory to both of them.
For fifteen years, Frank had looked but not touched. He was still a handsome man in superb physical condition. Frank and his wife were older than most of the young couples in their small neighborhood. Most were his children's age; all were dual income families of college grads with excellent jobs and lots of disposable income. Many were starting families. A number of the working women in the neighborhood worked out of home offices as did a few of the men. As is typical in corporate America, it was not uncommon for at least one member of these young families to travel extensively.
Frank was a member of one of the last generations who took shop---Industrial Arts---in high school. He had grown up on a farm and had learned at an early age how things worked and how you fixed them when they didn't. He had studied engineering and spent his successful business career in a highly technical field. He knew how to build things; he was a master carpenter, an accomplished plumber and a competent electrician. He understood how a house was put together. He knew what made engines run and how to diagnose the problem when they failed to do so. He seemed to be the only person---man or woman—in the neighborhood who knew how to relight the pilot light on the water heater. Having built a seven figure nest egg in corporate America working with his mind, he found nothing remotely demeaning about working with his hands; he, in fact, found it intensely satisfying.
To the delight of many of his young neighbors, Frank became the resident handyman and rescuer of young damsels in distress. The young husbands viewed Frank, a legitimate member of their own parents' generation, as no sexual threat to their young and universally attractive wives. The young husbands were tickled that Frank could, "handle" things that they neither wanted to deal with nor, in most cases, knew how to deal with. When Saturday came around, they could play golf with their corporate buddies since Frank had been nice enough to help with many of the "honey do" lists. They rewarded him with praise and thanks, a case of his favorite stout or a fine bottle of wine.
There was a serious problem with this whole scenario. Foolishly many of the young husbands must have assumed that, as a man approaches sixty, his sex drive declines. In Frank's case the opposite was true. Frank had always been a good fuck and his fifty-eight year old cock was every bit as hard today as it had been at eighteen. It took him slightly longer to recover between fucks than it had at eighteen but his talented tongue and fingers could more than adequately fill the recovery interval.
Unlike younger men, Frank had staying power that comes from experience. He worked out, maintained his cardio-vascular health, had remarkable stamina and took a variety of vitamins and supplements. His dick was probably slightly longer than average and thick. While familiarity with one's spouse may often lead to a loss of erectile rigor in the marital bed, the constant exposure to attractive young women in their twenties had the opposite effect.
Most the of the young women in question too often "forgot" that Frank was still a virile male and were often less than modest in their attire and conversation around him. Having vowed to remain faithful, Frank beat off a lot during the first few months in the new neighborhood. His wife was pleasantly surprised at his exceptional ardor as he nailed her compact little body daily as soon as she arrived home from work.
Chapter 2, The First Time with Belinda
He had just relit his nearest neighbor's hot water heater pilot light. This , tall, long legged blond was one of his favorites with her scrubbed, makeup-free face, small but firm breasts and exquisite little ass. She was also a runner. She and Frank had become close and often chatted across the fence when she would take a break from her home office to attend to something in the yard or garden. Her husband reminded Frank of his own son in looks if not in temperament. Belinda's young husband was quiet and studious; he was a successful computer geek. Belinda was a manager in a very male oriented enterprise and tough as nails. He'd always loved business-tough women.
Belinda never wanted to be helpless; she was now kneeling, head down, butt in the air examining the pilot light system as Frank explained the procedure to her. Next time she wanted to be able to handle this task on her own; that was her nature. Unfortunately in her current position, her firm little runner's ass was alluringly ensconced in her thin little nylon running shorts; she was either wearing a thong or nothing under those shorts. The white nylon had become almost transparent; her puffy cunt lips below were clearly outlined. Nope, there was no thong; just bare young pussy. Frank was wearing loose fitting cotton shorts; he was instantly bone hard and without underwear of his own it was unlikely that Belinda would miss his aroused state when she stood up and turned around. The fact that at least two inches of her tightly packed little ass crease was visible above the waist of the shorts didn't help Frank's condition.
Having grasped the essence of pilot light architecture, Belinda rose to her feet, turned toward Frank, checked out the bulge in his shorts, adopted a flirtatious smile and spoke.
"Frank, were you checking out my ass?"
