"Hey. It's been a long time." I instantly recognized the voice on the other end of the phone. I belonged to Dave, one of my best friends from college.
After graduation we had drifted to opposite sides of the country following work. He went to California after landing a dream job, and I headed South to the Carolinas. We had kept in touch via email, Facebook and the phone, but it had been many years since we'd actually seen each other.
"I'm going to be in your neck of the woods on business and would love to get together," he said.
"Absolutely. Just name the date and the time. We'll make it happen," I answered back.
"Unfortunately I've only got one night in town and it's next Wednesday. I've got a big meeting the next morning, so we're not talking about anything too wild."
Dave and I had done some pretty serious partying during our college days. Thankfully that was in our distant pasts, but I smiled thinking back to everything we'd experienced together.
"Yeah. I've got to be at work in the morning too. No rest for the wicked," I reassured him. "There's a really good Irish pub that just opened. They've got all kinds of good beer on tap and the food's excellent. Why don't we meet there?" I suggested.
"Sounds good to me. Be sure to bring that lady of yours so that I can finally meet her. I've heard enough about her and seen plenty of photos, but I'd really like to see her face-to-face and get to know her a little."
"Will do," I said.
We chatted for a few more minutes, and set the details for dinner before hanging up. I recounted the conversation to you and was really glad that you were interested in going to dinner with us like Dave had suggested.
"I think it would be fun to meet one of your buddies from college. I might learn all of your dark secrets," you said with a wicked smile.
Dinner that Wednesday was excellent. We ate, drank and talked for hours. It was great to reconnect with my old friend and the two of you got along well together. Lubricated by a lot of excellent draft beer the conversation drifted over every topic imaginable, from our past history, to jobs, to politics. Not unexpectedly considering how close friends we all were, it got very personal before long.
"So what's the most outrageous sex you've ever had?" you asked Dave over your beer.
"Holy shit!" I thought to myself. "Honey!?!" I said out loud, trying to reign you in even though I knew that I had little chance of doing so.
"No way!" Dave exclaimed.
"Yes way!" you shot back.
"Only if you go first," Dave parried.
"Dear," you looked straight at me. "Do you remember that night in the dressing room?"
"What night?" I replied trying to sound as if I didn't remember, but obviously failing in my ruse.
You raised your eyebrow threateningly at me. I absolutely remembered that night, and I knew that you wanted me to tell the story; and I knew that you wanted me to tell in exquisite detail. I frantically searched my brain for a way to tell it to Dave while you sat at my side without feeling embarrassed. In a flash the solution came to me; I'll tell the story as if I were telling it to you.
I turned to Dave and began explaining, "In order to really understand this story, you need to know a little more about us. Then it all makes sense."
I turned back to you and continued telling the story to its conclusion.
First, we are adults, and by that I mean that we're over 40. We make an effort to stay as healthy as we can by going to the gym together and eating well. Because of that we look substantially younger than our chronological ages. However, being grown-ups means that we've had our knocks in life. We both have had individual bad marriages that thankfully are in the past. We are a little scarred, a little rough around the edges, but also wiser and happier. We connected mostly by accident, after we had each resigned ourselves to be content with lives alone, but away from poisonous relationships. What we have now, together with each other, is far from poisonous, and we are at last experiencing the joy of being truly connected.
Second, you are far more sexually open and adventurous than I. You have an easy comfort in discussing and taking action on your sexuality and carnal interests. I marvel at how you will stride into an adult store and openly ask questions about toys, clothing, lubricants, etc. Me, I'd feel more comfortable talking about my smelly gym socks, or problems with the sewer system at home. I enjoy every bit of your openness, and willingly followed your lead to all kinds of pleasures. You're not slutty, just wide open, and I love it.
Third, I trust you beyond measure. With you I have discovered the incredible happiness of deep intimacy and absolute trust. You have my heart, my soul, and my body. I will do absolutely anything that you ask. Every time that I do, I'm rewarded with the unspeakable joy of my trust being kept and honored by you. So it doesn't matter what you ask me to do, the answer will always be yes!
Fourth, I love everything about our sex life: doing it, talking about it, thinking about it, dreaming about it, writing about it. Sharing physical pleasure with you by any and all means, makes my heart soar, and I want that as much as possible. For example, early in our relationship we took up teasing each other with mild sexual innuendos via email and text messaging. It quickly evolved into very explicit messages detailing exactly how we could and would please each other. Even today, a long time since those initial phone sessions, when I "sext" you, I know that you get very aroused and wind up with wet and sticky underwear. I love giving you damp, achy pleasure via my cell phone. However, you often warn me how you will deliciously retaliate. "Payback is hell," you say.
Fifth, summers in the Southeast are very hot, with outside temperatures frequently 95 degrees and with 95% humidity. So, the summertime dress code is primarily t-shirts and shorts, loose, baggy, and comfortable. I usually add boxer-style underwear to my outfits to maximize airflow to my "intimate parts". When going out to dinner, I might dress up a bit with a polo shirt, or a short-sleeved button-down shirt, but shorts are de rigueur in the hot weather. You often remark that you enjoy how my summer clothing combination allows you to have "easy access" to my cock and balls. With your sexual openness, you take advantage of that whenever you can, by sliding your hands up my shorts to fondle me. In over-compensation for the outside air temperatures, many, if not most, public spaces are excessively air-conditioned. Malls, shops, restaurants, and just about every venue are very cool or downright cold during the summertime. We usually have to carry sweat shirts or sweaters to wear when we go inside just to keep from freezing.
It was a typical hot summer evening, and it had been a long day for both of us. We decided not to cook at home, and to eat out at one of our favorite Italian restaurants in the local mega-mall. It was part of a big chain, but the food was consistently excellent, and the atmosphere very nice, with lots of cloth-covered tables and widely separated booths. Like many places in the area, the dress was casual, which, as I said, was important at that time of year. Before leaving home, we changed into our summer, out-to-eat wear. I picked out a pair of nice shorts and pulled them on over some synthetic silk boxers, the coolest combination I could come up with. I matched that with a short sleeved, brightly colored button-up shirt. You donned a snug-fitting pair of shorts that nicely showed off your rear without revealing any panty lines because of the teeny thongs you had on (one of my favorite pair). Your top clung to your luscious 38D breasts, and I could faintly make out your nipples through the cloth. I knew it would be easier to enjoy seeing them once we got into the air conditioned restaurant. As usual, you looked stunning. We checked each other out, gave our silent nods of approval, and headed out to eat. For some reason, I decided not to bring a sweater. That was my first mistake and one that I would later regret.
We passed the time in the car ride to the restaurant chatting about our days, and holding hands while the radio played our favorite classic rock. Like you often do when we're sitting and holding hands, you pulled them into your lap. I could feel lusty heat radiating off you through your shorts. My cock stirred and I noticed your eyes roaming over the growing bulge in my shorts. You pulled our hands even tighter into your crotch.
Once we got inside, the hostess escorted us to a booth toward the back. We sat side-by-side, ordered drinks, and began scanning the menu. The air conditioning was indeed pumped up high and it was pretty cold in the restaurant. Despite the sweater that you had wisely decided to bring, you were obviously chilled (I was right about being able to enjoy the sight of your nipples in the air conditioning) and began rubbing your leg against mine in an effort to warm yourself up. The feel of your skin against mine, and your rubbing made my cock began to stir again. I was glad that I had plenty of room in my shorts to accommodate my expanding hard-on. The waitress came by a moment later with our drinks. We placed our food order, and settled back into our seats to enjoy our dinner together.
