Jim chuckled to himself at the irony. He didn't dwell on it. But from time to time a circumstance arose, so to speak, that reminded him of the strange twist his life had taken. When most men had admitted to themselves that it was time to see the doc about a prescription, Jim's libido and physical capability had increased beyond what was expected of an older man. Hell, they were beyond what was expected of a younger man-certainly he'd not been able to keep it up as long in his earlier years. Contemplating how long he had had the erection nestling in his trousers caused Jim to chuckle yet again. Damn, if some hot lady were available, boy, would she be pleasantly pleasured!
A Scotch and water in hand, a steak on the grill, Jim was thinking about his week to come. The wife was away visiting her sister. The Scotch and the steak were verboten when the wife was home. So, the first thing Jim did on the way home from the airport, dropping the wife off to board the plane to Minneapolis, was to buy Scotch and lots of beef. Halleluiah! Real food and real drink!
It had been over a decade since Jim and the wife had had sex. Circumstances beyond either's control had, in effect, ended the marital bedroom bliss. Various methods had aided Jim over the years to keep from losing his mind. Or other things. That was what was so ironic. He could really be pleasing a woman now, more than ever. Longer than ever. Jim didn't contemplate leaving-there were the kids and other considerations. But it would be nice to have a source of regular physical release.
Twice a year, Jim met up with Marci, a high school sweetheart, back in his hometown. Even though Jim was retired, the money spent on the motel was well worth it when he met Marci. She still worked-the all-too-often fate of the divorcee. Jim and Marci had not begun their trysts until after he and his wife had stopped having sex. Somehow, some way, at a school reunion, Jim and Marci had discovered a renewed interest in one another. Not that either of them desired a relationship. They didn't. Marci had work and survival on her mind. Jim was still married. Period.
Although hooking up with Marci was a great physical release those couple of times a year, it wasn't really enough to satisfy Jim's emotional needs. In fact, it didn't satisfy the physical ones nearly enough. She lived too far away for regular sex, and they didn't really even care for one another on a much deeper level than sex. That's not to say that they didn't enjoy one another's company when they were together-they did. But they didn't have anything more going for them than decent sex and a mild compatibility.
The rock hard cock inside Jim's trousers wriggled as he thought of Marci's ample tits. God, he'd like to be suckin' those things right now. He could then really stick it to her-for a long time! Damn. Jim turned the steak, thought about getting a refill on the Scotch, thought about relieving his hard on, and then jumped when he heard the front doorbell through the sliding glass door. He slid the door open and traversed the length of the dining and living areas to the front door. He opened it, surprised to see the wife's cosmetics saleslady. Yeah. That's right. The ding-dong lady. Jim almost burst into a raucous laugh, but quickly stifled it. She really did ding the doorbell dong.
Jim had always considered Betsy pretty hot. Even better, Betsy knew she was hot. She was a petite thing, but some of her attributes were certainly not petite. Betsy's breasts were impressive. Firm, high, and round. She wasn't ashamed to show them off either. Not that they were uncovered all the time, but she frequently wore form-fitting blouses and t-shirts. Jim had once even seen a grade school boy stop dead in his tracks and turn to follow Betsy with his eyes as she sashayed down the sidewalk.
Betsy's hair was a beautiful chestnut brown, long and shiny. Her brown eyes were accented by a tad too much makeup for Jim's taste, but they were arresting, nevertheless. Sure, she was more than twenty years younger than Jim, but she had made a few rounds around this little town. Not enough to make her unsavory or anything, but enough that Jim knew she had an itch that needed scratching from time to time.
Betsy was married, but no one had seen the husband in five or six years. No kids either. She worked at a mortgage company in addition to her cosmetics sales job. As Jim's eyes quickly took in the high heels, short skirt, and form-fitting blouse, he wondered what fuckin' her would be like. He wasn't even uncomfortable that the bulge in his pants was quite visible to the woman. In fact, he sort of hoped she'd see it.
"Oh, hello, Jim," she said following a brief pause after he'd opened the door.
"Hi, Betsy. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine. I have your wife's order here. Is she home?"
"Well, no, Betsy. She's gone. For at least a week, maybe more. In Minneapolis visiting her sister."
Betsy looked momentarily confused. She was surprised to hear that Nancy was away. She hadn't known she wouldn't be here. She eyed Jim, recalling how she'd always admired the way this man moved. He was absolutely elegant in his carriage. So unusual for such a large man. Betsy felt rather dwarfed in his presence. His piercing blue eyes were always direct and his square-jawed face quick to break into a smile. Suddenly, she remembered how he'd looked at the Fourth of July parade last month--tanned, erect, handsome, gliding along in the parade as if he walked on air. After a few seconds, she seemed to have made up her mind about something, looked down, cleared her throat, looked up, and spoke.
"Well, Jim. I can just come in and leave this order with you. Do you think you can pay me? A check is fine." She paused, eyed his drink, then continued.
"I have to say though, I was supposed to give your wife a nice foot rub with this new product she ordered. Supposed to make your feet feel soft and refreshed. I guess I'd better demonstrate on you so you'll be able to show her, huh?"
Jim knew he should be blushing. He knew he should be shutting the door. He knew he should be doing almost anything except what he was doing-contemplating fucking this woman. He also knew that she probably would not be too adverse to following through with his thoughts, especially since she'd offered to give him a foot rub.
"Sure, c'mon in. I'll just get the checkbook."
"How 'bout one of those drinks, too, eh, Jim? I could use a stiff one."
Now Jim really almost choked on the laughter he'd been holding back since the earlier ding-dong thought. Stiff, I guess. I'll give ya a stiff one, darlin'. He took control of his thoughts and asked Betsy if Scotch was all right to which she replied that it would be perfect.
When he returned to the living room with the checkbook and their drinks, Betsy had kicked off the high heels and positioned herself on the floor in front of the chair that Jim called home. She was removing items from a large canvas bag that had been thrown over her shoulder. As she pulled things out of the bag, a small egg-shaped item partially revealed itself, but Betsy quickly scooped it back inside.
"This your chair, isn't it, darlin'? I thought you could get comfy and let me go to work on those feet. You walk a lot, don't ya?" She did not pause long enough for Jim to answer. He didn't suppose she really wanted an answer anyway. She continued. "I sure didn't know Nancy was gonna be gone. She didn't say a thing. Guess she was just too excited about gettin' outta this heat for a while. Guess it's cool up there in Minneapolis, huh?"
This time she paused for a breath as she motioned Jim into the chair. He handed her drink down to her before he walked to the front of the chair. Betsy looked up at the giant man towering over her. Her thoughts wouldn't behave. She certainly didn't subscribe to the old tale about men's feet, or noses, or hands being an indication of their cock size. But for goodness sakes, this man's cock could be less than average and he'd be a great lay because of the body mass pumping it. Whew. Imagine that.
Jim folded down into the chair and placed his drink on the table to his right. When he had fixed Betsy's drink and freshened his own, he'd also removed the steak from the grill and placed it in the fridge. No beef tonight. Perhaps some other treat would be in store.
