If you read my last story here, you know how I, a 72-year-old retired college professor, married, monogamous (except for one slip 30 years ago), suddenly found myself in the cab of an immense semi-truck, sucking the cock of a truck driver. That story is posted in "Gay Male," but "gay male" doesn't begin to describe me. Perhaps I don't know what does, any more.
I had been coming back from the funeral of an old friend in Massachusetts. The rest of that story is that I finished the drive home-about two more hours on the Mass Pike and the New York State Thruway-in a kind of dreamy warmth. I didn't start berating myself, or worrying if I had suddenly turned gay. What I had done felt strangely natural, and yet - naturally - strange. I think that if I had thought about it, I would have been glad I'd done it, but I didn't think. I just felt...that dreamy, warm feeling.
I got home around 10:30, and my wife, June, was already in bed and asleep. I undressed and got in beside her, and cuddled close to her, spoon fashion. She was wearing a summer nightie, and i pulled up a little to feel my cock against her bare bottom, and it had never felt so good.
She sort of half woke up, purred, wiggled her bottom against me, and my cock stirred to life. I kissed the back of her neck, which I knew was one of her erogenous zones. She rolled over to meet me, and I began kissing her all over. Her mouth, her eyes, her cheeks, her throat, her breasts (at 68, they're soft and pillowy, and still sensitive to the ministrations of lips and tongue), down across her belly, and finally her pussy. I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and once I put my mouth there, I couldn't let go. I devoured her clit, her labia, along her perineum. I thrust my tongue inside her. I went back to her clit, then retraced the whole journey. She must have come three times. Then I fell asleep, with my tongue still exploring her pussy.
And woke up the same way. She had rolled over onto her side, but I was still touching her. I woke up to my nose nuzzling the soft down of her pubes.
I pulled myself up to my pillow, and looked into sparkling blue eyes. "Well, good morning sunshine! What got into you last night? Not that I'm complaining."
I just kissed her, for an answer. But she wasn't letting it go. And I must admit, it had been an unusual night. After forty years, our sex life was wonderful, but unadventurous. It had probably been-I started to write it had probably been months since I had gone down on her, but the truth is it might have been years.
"Come on now, what was it?" she asked. "Another woman?"
I ducked my eyes.
"Was it? Another woman? After the funeral? Starting to feel your mortality? You can tell me. I think I'd like to send her flowers."