Amanda, you're 64, single, pretty and open to what life throws your way. You work in an office for an architect, Kevin, who is 4 years younger than you. You've known him for a long time, and over time have become good friends, with a bit of bantering and flirting between you, even though neither of you are normally the flirting type. Kevin is married but distant from his wife. He's also been working on self-improvement, has lost weight, exercises, and is looking to extend his life as he gets older. He's taken up running and swimming and has recently completed his first triathlon. Not a great athlete, but good for his age.
You also have been improving your health and physique, with some weightlifting and yoga, and the two of you exercise together at the local gym, which puts you in close physical proximity on a regular basis. You're a good-looking woman, by any standard. You have men affirming their interest in you on a regular basis, and if you're honest with yourself, it's an ego boost to know you still have it. You certainly don't FEEL 64. You feel young, too young to retire.
You find yourself drawn to Kevin's spirit and good looks, and lately he's been somewhat open about an attraction to you. Sex at your age has been less than frequent, and you both reminisce about your past physicality with previous lovers in an open and unembarrassed way. The discussion engenders in you a longing for something more, perhaps with each other. You're not sure how you feel about him, but you enjoy his company, and he does make you laugh. You admit to having thoughts of bedroom activity, and they always make you feel good when you have them.
Sometimes it's him you think of while using your vibrator. Up to now, you've been resistant to any subtle suggestions, because you know he's married. He's enough of a gentleman to avoid overt behavior. You're just not so sure a sexual dalliance would be a good idea, though it's tempting. You've been there before, with lingering regrets, and it can end up hurting, not just you but others. So, you proceed with caution. Kevin supports your mild resistance, and doesn't push it, although it's hard to read his true feelings.
An affair would be problematic. You know his wife, Ann, from contact through the office. You admire her, and it bothers you that she would be hurt if you did anything with her husband. If the roles were reversed, you would not be happy. Empathy and sisterhood hold you back.
But late one afternoon you find yourself decompressing after a healthy workout session in the gym, sharing an end-of-day drink back at the office. Kevin is a bit of an alcohol snob, and he turned you on to Single Malt Scotch. He keeps a bottle in his office for these wind-down occasions. You sit with him, sipping, and may have had one too many, as you feel your inhibitions slipping. Everyone else has left the building, no one will be back, and you're alone with him. The topic turns slightly erotic and personal, and you feel a tingle below the belt line. You suggest one more shot before you both go home.
You have no plans for the evening, so you drain the glass. It doesn't burn like the first shot, because it's top-shelf scotch, and you feel the warmth as it settles on top of the previous two. You're getting loose, and enervated. There's also that something tingling inside, between your legs. Would it be so bad to dip your toes in the water a little with Kevin? Is it cheating to scratch a little itch, if you really don't want it to lead to anything more than an hour or so of fun? You're both not getting any younger. Can't you simply be friends, sharing a mutual benefit, without feeling guilty?
Kevin left some files down in the office basement, so before packing up to go he heads for the steps. Uninvited, you follow him, your heart pounding with imagined notions conjured up by the scotch, and that tingle. The basement is dimly lit, with a few boxes and piles of files and building models scattered around. Notably, there is also a big, soft couch. Kevin turns to face you, his eyes gleaming in the low light, starts to say something, looks at the expression on your face, then stops, his look seeming to ask, "why did you follow me down here?" You ask yourself the same question.
Then you answer it.
Before he can say anything you lightly back him up against the wall, and initiate a long, passionate kiss. Is it the scotch or is it really you? Does it matter? Your lips lock, and your hands explore. Taking control, you press yourself against him, feeling his muscles beneath your fingers, taut from swimming. Your breasts crush against his chest. He responds, unresisting, his hands wandering to your waist, pulling you closer, hip to hip, trying to figure out where this may be leading. The look on his face is still quizzical, though not entirely lost.
You keep kissing him, long and soft, with wet lips and just the right amount of tongue, as you take a more dominant role. Grabbing his wrists, you pull them up and back against the wall, over his head, trapping him in an embrace. He doesn't seem surprised, nor does he resist. He just looks at you and says nothing, scanning your face for your intentions. The power dynamic has shifted, and he seems to enjoy your assertive move. He smiles slightly, eyes lit up, and he leans in and kisses you back with equal passion. His tongue probes yours. He remembers a discussion with you involving a fantasy that seems similar, so he goes with the flow.
