Having breakfast at a local greasy diner with my beau, the conversation stopped when Daniel wantonly gazed upon a young woman walking with her boyfriend along the street outside the window.
I couldn't blame him, as the girl was, well, eye-catching. She was wearing a tight tee top which placed her breasts in prominent display. Her beige mini-skirt showed a lot of leg, and I swear Daniel was placed in a trance by her swaying hips.
"Daniel?"
The calling of his name snapped his eyes away from the girl's shapely ass. He guiltily looked at me, only to see my head-shaking smile. "It's okay, Daniel, I understand. She looks very attractive."
I glanced at the couple, now nearing the end of our sightline, as did my boyfriend. They were a cute couple who were snuggled against each other. Her hand was placed gently on her boyfriend's ass, while he was kissing her neck.
"I wonder where they do it," asked Daniel.
"Huh?"
"You know, they probably can't do it at home unless their parents are away, so I just wonder where they do it when they can't mess around at home," said my boyfriend, an older man with graying hair. "They have to sneak away somewhere."
I surmised they found the normal places to make love, the places where lovebirds have mated over the ages. At a local park, for instance, or down by the lake at a local lover's lane under a blanket of darkness. There they would turn a car into a bedroom like lovers have for decades. I can't be sure, but most likely lovers of olden days may have even used the back bench of a carriage for their lovemaking setting.
It got me thinking. I was lucky my lover --- he a married man --- didn't mind our own love nests, like my apartment or a local motel. For quickies, we were just like the young lovers, we didn't mind being contortionists and making love in one of our trusty automobiles. For many reasons I've always liked being a little adventurous, and if that sense of adventure led be to a secluded yet semi-public setting for sex, so be it.
We lowered our voices and speculated on the "unusual" --- that's his word, not mine --- places we had sampled each other's sexual talents over our three-year relationship. Yes, we'd regularly do it in the car, but over time Daniel would convince me to become more adventuresome in our relationship. We performed our sexual escapades in numerous places, locations which made my friends blush.
One of his favorites was in the stairwells of mall parking lots, in between floors with the door closed above and below so that an intruder would be heard in advance of his or her spying eyes catching us doing some type of wild thing. We had also messed around in a dark, cramped closet at a local library and braved the elements outdoors in a national park. Our most risky might have been the quick blowjob I gave him in a dressing room at Sears just minutes after the store opened. While there was nobody around at first, I heard women walking past and conversing with each other just feet away from us. Luckily, I had gotten him to shoot off quickly, and we were able to slip away without being caught.
Conversely, on one occasion we were caught in the act by several women when we got it on in a rest room during a rock concert. It didn't faze the three girls at all, as they were, well, drunk and more interested in using the facilities than watching our lovemaking. They actually clapped at our activities before leaving.
Yes, we had led an adventurous love life, and those semi-public sex escapades were not only physically hot but also mentally. I had used my trusty hairbrush on numerous occasions thinking about our lovemaking sessions and often wondered if we'd ever be able to best whatever last session we had.
I met Daniel when I worked at the fast food restaurant he managed. He was a good boss, gave us a little leeway on breaks and hours worked, and I missed him when he was transferred to another store.
It was purely by accident when we met at Target, he looking for some jewelry for his wife, me shopping for a new watch. We shared coffees at Starbucks and went our separate ways, but that night I used my trusty hairbrush to satisfy my sexual urges, using Daniel as the poster boy for manhood.
He was quite attractive, as he looked distinguished yet had an air or youth. He was in his mid-40s and regularly worked out, something he reminded me I should do more of...the creep.
Not that I am obese or anything, at 5-5, my 128 pound, 23-year-old frame carries my long brown hair and brown eyes well.
As luck would have it Daniel ran into me at Wendy's one day at lunchtime. Little did I know he had been waiting for me, as I'd mentioned I ate at the restaurant a couple times each week. I was surprised, but pleased, that we met. I asked how his wife Wendy --- how ironic is that? --- was, and he quizzed me of my recent dates.
At that time I hadn't been seeing anyone special, not since being dumped by Jason several weeks before.
Throughout lunch I caught Daniel sneaking glances at my chest on several occasions, and after a while decided to have some fun with the guy. Sort of give an old guy a thrill.
I excused myself and went to the rest room, returning with my mini-skirt hiked a little higher. He gentlemanly stood as I reached the table, and I couldn't help but laugh as his eyes glued themselves to an expanse of thigh which was revealed when I snuggled into my seat.
"Mr. Dawson! You are being a little obvious," was my stern comment. "Don't hurt yourself looking..."
Busted, Daniel blushed like the child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
