Getting old is a total bitch. You start to feel it in your joints when you get up in the morning; start to notice that you can't stay out as late as you used to. Can't dink like you used to without royally fucking up the next day well into the afternoon. Those cheeseburgers tend to stick around your midsection a little longer than they used to and your hair starts to produce a rogue grey hair every now and again.
It was while I was contemplating how I was going to survive cutting back on my cheeseburger intake (not something I was anxious to explore) that a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to play in a recreational volleyball league. Now, I've never been a big volleyball fan outside of graduation parties but I needed to do something and I figured why the hell not.
Turns out that not only was it an extremely recreational league it was co-ed as well, which meant that in addition to getting into shape I was going to get to watch women in tight spandex bounce up and down. Volleyball was quickly moving up my list of favorite sports. But it wasn't until I met the husband-wife tandem that was coaching our team that things started to get interesting.
His name was John and he was a nice enough guy – no one I wanted to see in spandex to be sure but a decent enough fellow all the same. His wife however I could have stood looking at in spandex seven days a week, and twice on Sunday's. Her name was Erin and she had been a scholarship volleyball player back in the day. She was tall, well built with a sinewy musculature that easily identified her as an athlete.
Erin had sandy-blonde hair cut short and a decent enough face; nothing you would classify as pretty but nothing you would have to be forced to gnaw your arm off over if you woke up looking at the morning after. Her breasts too weren't exceptional but they fit her svelte frame very proportionally. It was her legs and ass that would make a man stand up and salute. And she wasn't shy about showing them off either.
I soon found out that the term 'volleyball shorts' for a woman meant finding the tightest, sheerest, shortest little numbers one could imagine – and then bending over in them. Erin had the market cornered on these things apparently because she never showed up to a single practice or game in anything else. She also wore a thong, or so I assumed, because I spent countless hours studying at her backside and never once detected the faintest hint of a panty line.
If his wife's attire bothered him, John never let on. I mean he had to know that every guy in the gym had his eyes simply glued on his wife's ass from the moment she walked in the place and he never said a word. Maybe he thought it was good strategy; if people were so involved looking at his wife they wouldn't be looking at what they were supposed to be looking at, namely the volleyball.
The fact that Erin had given birth to two children and still looked the way she did absolutely floored me. I mentioned as much to my friend Josh, who had been the one to invite me to play, one night after a match when they invited the entire team over to their place for a cookout
"I know," he said when I expressed my appreciation for Erin's body at the cookout while sipping a cold beer, "I can't find a woman without any kids who has an ass like that."
Typical Josh.
Later that night after the party had thinned I found myself in conversation with John. We talked about the things guys typically do – sports, politics, job bullshit – then we got to the inevitable topic of women.
"So Mike, how come you're not tied down?" John asked me.
"Well I was for a while. Not married but in a serious enough relationship – lived with a girl for a few years," I said pulling one of the few remaining beers from the cooler and popping the top.
"What happened there?"
"Eh," I said taking a long sip from the bottle, "she and I didn't agree on some key issues and I was unwilling to compromise."
"Oh," he said getting himself another beer as well. From the light slurring of his speech I wasn't sure he really needed it but of the two of us he wasn't going to have to drive home. "What kind of issues?"
"Sex mostly. She didn't like it when I slept with other woman and I enjoyed the hell out of it."
John erupted in raucous laughter. "That's fucking classic, Mike! Just fucking classic."
I just shrugged and sipped my beer. For a long time neither of us said anything.
"Man I wish I was in your situation," John finally said, his alcohol loosened tongue starting to work, "fucking random women without worrying about the consequences. Oh man, to be a bachelor again."
"What are you talking about John," I asked peering at him inquisitively, "you've got a great wife and from what I can tell two fine kids."
"Yeah yeah," he said draining the last half of his beer in one long swallow, "they're fine but there is just no more excitement anymore. When Erin and I met in college we were so hot for each other, we fucked all the time everywhere and anywhere we could. One night we even snuck into the dean's office and fucked on his couch – one of those big overstuffed leather things. I never had a woman like her before."
"I don't understand John, what's the problem?"
He shook his head and extracted yet another beer from the cooler and held one up looking at me. I showed him my still half-full beer and he put it back in the ice.
"Kids change everything. After we had Bradley everything changed – all the spontaneity went right out the window. And after we had Laurie our sex life basically ended. Do you know I haven't had a blowjob since she was born!" I tried to do some calculations in my head but John beat me too it. "She's going to be seven next month. Seven years Mike, seven years without a blowjob."
"Hmm," I said noncommittally. John took it as encouragement to continue.
"So I stopped licking her pussy. And eventually stopped doing just about anything. I think it's been about five months since we had sex."
I thought to myself, 'if my woman had an ass like Erin's she wouldn't go five minutes without my dick inside of her' but I just sat there nursing the last of my beer and nodding in the proper spots during John's continuing diatribe.
When my beer was finally finished I excused myself to use the restroom. I went in the house and found that someone was already in the bathroom so I milled around in the kitchen looking at the pictures and knickknacks that a family accumulates on their refrigerator.
"Hey Mike," Erin said coming through the back door with her hands full of dishes. I went over and held the door open for her. "Thanks," she said and added the dishes to a large pile already stacked in the sink.
"See, that's why I don't have parties," I said. "Those dishes would still be in my sink two months after the fact."
Erin laughed. "If I left them for John to do they would be here as well."
"I didn't figure John was much of a mister mom."
"No, he pretty much leaves that to me. With him coaching all the time
I rarely see him. And when he is home he likes to take the kids out and do stuff."
"That must make your pretty lonely," I said.
"Eh," Erin said and shrugged. "I actually kind of like the time away from the kids. They are great but I need a break every now and again."
"I couldn't imagine being a parent. I have enough trouble taking care of myself let alone being responsible for the life of someone else."
"It definitely changes things," Erin said starting to fill the sink with water. "John and I were pretty wild in our youth, but now..."
"Yeah, John kinda mentioned something about that."
"I'm sure he did. Get a few beers in him and he gossips worse than the ladies down at the hair salon," Erin said with a chuckle. "Did he tell you about our sex life too?"
"Uh," I said not wanting to say too much and get John in trouble.
"It's ok," Erin said taking the first plate off the stack and plunging it into the soapy water, "he likes to tell everyone that I won't let him touch me but in reality it's the other way around. I'm horny as hell all the time and he doesn't seem interested."
"Uh," I said again, this time because I wasn't sure what to say to this. I wasn't used to having a couple this open to revealing the details of their sex life – or lack there of. I knew that with John it was the alcohol talking and I figured that it was also contributing to Erin's disclosure.
"I thought maybe he was having an affair or something but I asked around and everyone assured me he wasn't – people that would tell me if he was. They say a man peaks a lot earlier than a woman does but the way we used to go at it I didn't think John's peak was ever going to end, but I guess there is some truth to that after all. Unless he just doesn't find me attractive anymore. How about it Mike, do you think I'm attractive."
I thought about all the countless hours I had spent staring at her ass during volleyball. The times I just wanted to call 'time out' and ravage her right there on the baseline. I wanted to tell her that yes, she was just about the most desirable female I had laid eyes on in a long time and that I had fantasized about her almost nightly for the past 3 months.
Before I could say anything incredibly dumb – or exceedingly intelligent depending on your interpretation – the bathroom door opened and one of the other party goers staggered out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.
"Great party Erin," he said with slightly slurred words.
I used his intrusion as cover and ducked into the bathroom. When I finally emerged Erin had been joined by a few other ladies from the team and together they were making quick work of the clean up process.
"G'night," I said weaving my way through the kitchen.
"Night Mike," they echoed as I slipped out the door and into the cool night. One more round of goodbye's and I was in my car and driving home. The car ride home helped to clear my mind and for a long while I thought about nothing but the crisp, cool air whipping through my convertible.
Then I started to think about what John had told me, then what Erin had told me, and I wondered if it was really all they made it out to be or if it was simply the alcohol talking and pushing everything to the extremes. The only thing that I was sure of is that if Erin went to bed next to me at night she'd be awfully tired in the morning cuz that girl would get no sleep.
Over the next few days I tried to put everything that John and Erin had told me out of my head but at odd times during the day I would find my mind wandering from my work and between Erin's long legs. It was during one of these daydreaming sessions that I got a phone call that would change those fantasies to reality.
It was John calling to ask if I could draw him up a couple of lease agreements on some apartments he had just finished renovating. He explained that he was in a hurry to rent them out since he had spent more than he had anticipated fixing them up. Further he had a possible tenant but had no lease to have them sign.
"No problem John. Just give me the addresses and I can get them done this afternoon and drop them off to you this evening," I said and offered to delay my fee until after he had filled his units.
He thanked me, gave me the particulars and rang off. Since lease agreements are a pretty standard contract and I've done roughly two billion of them in my career it was a simple process to get what he needed done. When I left my office that evening I had an ironclad contract for each of his units in a manila folder on the passenger seat of my car.
I pulled into the driveway at John and Erin's and hopped out of the car, folder in hand. When I got to the front door Erin was standing there holding it open.
"Mike, what are you doing here?" She asked standing aside so I could slip by her and into the house.
"John asked me to bring these over," I said offering her the folder. She took it and opened it, examining the papers within.
"Oh, the lease agreements," she said realizing what they were. "I knew he said he was going to call you about these but I didn't know he had. Thanks for bringing them over."
