I've been reading sex stories for a week now from Litrotica, I like many of them and find many of them very hot. But I'll be damned, I just can't grasp the words used today by younger folks; I mean why do you have to be a pharmacist to write about sex today?
I mean how many ways can you describe the smooth hot ass of a woman in tight jeans? In my day telling a woman she had a hot ass was enough to get your face slapped, or her linebacker boyfriend putting you in the hospital a few days. Or if you were lucky, you would be at her house with you face buried between her hot cheeks.
Here I am retired, back at college an English Major decades ago and I'm reading the assignment for tonight and I start laughing. The professor, a kid my baby sons age demands I control myself or leave the room. I get up and I leave.
Many of you have no idea why I'm even writing about this. But here is my story.
I'm in the library, yes, the big room with thousands of books. I'm reading my 1987 English classroom textbook, it was in the historical book section, that no one uses. Students are advised to buy the modern manuals, you know the ones classes suggest you buy but never use, and at the end of the year we would end up selling it back at a loss. Colleges are such crooks.
So, I started writing this, just for fun when I hear someone behind me laugh.
"May I ask why you are behind me reading my paper?"
"And what class would this be the start of, not mine I hope?"
I turn and sure enough it's the young woman that asked me to control myself or leave.
"Shit, am I dumped from your class, I was told I need it to graduate." She sits down and looks at what I wrote above.
"Is this really how you would start an essay for an English class?"
"Of course not, I'm just pissed because I don't get this new English."
"Do you mean to tell me a sixty-year-old man can't find a better way to tell a woman she has a nice ass?"
"Why would I waste my time, I mean: 'You know those jeans you are wearing really compliment your figure' Why not just say your ass looks great?"
"Would you tell your daughter that?"
"No, I would tell her she isn't wearing something painted on to go to school."
She stood and turned away. "Tell me what you think of my ass?"
"I'm sorry but your still my professor, I don't want to go to jail commenting on your figure."
"I am over seventeen, it's okay these days."
"Then if I was forty years younger, I would watch you walk and tell you your ass is fine."
"You wouldn't tell me I look good in these Jeans?"
"Why? Do the Jeans take us to bed and help us have a great time?"
"Mr. Hogan, you have a lot to learn about woman my age."
"Not really, I leave that to my son's. I can't handle the stress of the younger woman."
"Is there a difference in our bodies?"
"Ms. Brady, have you seen woman my age compared to you?"
"Not what I meant, they once looked like me didn't they?"
"They had bigger hair." I smiled as I showed her my widows picture.
"Wow, they did have big hair, was that more important than the butts?"
"I'm not sure, they wore tight clothing showing off their assets, but seemed more concerned with their hair."
"So, if I come to class tomorrow wearing tighter clothing maybe then you can write your essay?"
"I don't know, those Jeans are very tight already."
"See, you said it differently, have a great night Mr. Hogan."
"Ms. Brady, are you free for dinner? You perspective is very interesting."
"Dinner, where?"
"You pick the place; I don't wish to make you uncomfortable."
"Pick me up at seven, this address, dress comfortably."
I went home and shaved, showered, and picked out a polo shirt and slacks. One I wore with my son and his wife to dinner once. Emily told me it was a nice match on me. So maybe Sue will think the same. Wow, do I call her Ms. Brady or Sue? She could be my daughter. This is two strange for me, then again, it's just dinner.
I drove over to her place and stopped at the entrance, the gate opened, and I wanted to run. Who is Sue Brady that she could live on a ranch like this and is she setting me up to meet her dad, who could be a golf partner. I should run. Damn I sound like a kid on his first date.
I park and walk up to a beautiful home, with double doors, with a woman dressed like a Belle from a Disney movie.
"Sue, I don't know what to say but you look stunning."
"Mr. Hogan, would you like to come in?"
"No, for some reason I fear your father is there and he is holding a golf club."
She laughed and walked inside.
