I met Carolyn sometime in the early 1980s, '84, I think, from memory, about 18 months after separating from my first wife.
It was a Friday night when usually, straight from work (a job that kept me in good shape), I went to my local bar.
My Friday after work routine was to hit the bar for two to three hours, playing pool and shooting the breeze with my buddies.
Then I'd go home, shower and change, join forces with a similarly single mate and go into the CBD to hit the clubs, meet girls and hopefully get laid.
But this particular night, my routine was jolted out of its rut.
Because I met Carolyn and all that changed.
Carolyn, 30 at that time, 4 years my junior, was perhaps on the plain side of pretty, but certainly not unattractive. She possessed a beautiful smile and an infectious chuckle that could cut through the rowdiest crowd: I often heard her before I could see her.
I really can't explain it, but I couldn't take my eyes off her, that night. Between her chuckle, a body made for fucking and a mouth to put Linda Lovelace to shame, she sent my head into a spin.
Did I mention her body?
Her gorgeous body: 5' 4" (160cms) and 140 Ibs (65kgs), give or take, nice and slim without being skinny, plus memorable breasts--I'd guess a bouncy 34B.
When she's on top and dragging them across my face, her generous nipples fall into my mouth and I die and go to heaven.
Along with a pleasantly freckled complexion enhancing a pert, slightly upturned nose and sensuous lips, she just looked a little sluttish, naturally. As a bonus, her public bush was neatly shaped and trimmed so short that it hid little (not that I knew that, yet).
Did I mention sluttish?
Now, I like sluts. Sluts attract my immediate attention.
My newish current partner is a slut (I pimp for her; stories to come soon) and I love her for it. It gives us both intense pleasure when she has another's cock deep in her pussy and my (or yet another guy's) cock in her mouth.
Especially when we show all the fun on live cam.
But that's still far, far in the future.
Right now, on that fateful evening, I was standing at the bar with my group of regular drinking buddies.
Carolyn was with a group we recognised as from a local business, although Carolyn herself was unknown to us. It turned out this was only her second ever visit to our pub.
And as I said, she caught my eye.
So, I checked with a young guy in her group, as he walked by, that she was single, and when he replied in the affirmative, I asked for her name. A little later, as she passed me on the way back from the rest rooms, I greeted her by name.
"Hello, Carolyn. Great to see you here tonight."
And I smiled my nicest smile.
She stopped and looked at me, quizzically, her lips forming an uncertain smile.
"Um, hi. Do I know you?"
I detected a strong British accent.
"You do now," I grinned, cheekily. "I'm Pat. Nice to meet you," saluting her with my glass.
Her demeanour remained uncertain but friendly, if you know what I mean.
"How do you know my name?"
"I asked that young guy over there."
"Oh, him. Of course he'd tell. He sings like a bloody canary."
Canaries sing? Who knew?
"Would you like a drink?" I enquired, rather hopefully, but...you never know your luck.
There was a moment's pause and our eyes locked, until she broke it by telling me (literally: it wasn't a request) to hold her handbag while she fetched her existing drink from her workmates' table (her handbag weighed a bloody ton!)
And that was that. I drove her home from the bar that night and never left, eventually giving up my flat and moving in with her in the same house (same bed) she had previously shared with her ex.
Anyway, a month or so after hooking up with Carolyn, I had to drive to my old home town for a family occasion. Carolyn was happy to accompany me, and I organised for us to stay with my younger sister and her husband, who was about my age. We arrived late Friday afternoon, the night before the big event.
After introductions, my sister, Ev (short for Evelyn), and her husband, Olly, suggested we go to their local bar for drinks and food.
"A damn fine idea," I said.
By the time we enjoyed a few drinks, then a leisurely dinner, the clientele had thinned and the pool tables were largely empty--we mainly play 8-ball in New Zealand. Olly and I both enjoyed a game, and so, I had already discovered, did Carolyn
In fact, she was pretty good, and actually had won the odd game playing against me, but I'd trust my game over hers if there was something on it. We started playing while my sister wandered off to catch up with friends.
The first hour was uneventful, with me losing to Olly, Carolyn losing to Olly, me beating Olly and Carolyn beating me (hey, I was taking it easy on her!). The next game was due to be Carolyn vs Olly, again.
Now, drinks were being consumed at an accelerating pace.
I started the fun as Olly readied the balls for his break. Yep, it was me, when I suggested they make the game more interesting. Carolyn was keen.
"I'll show my tits if he wins and he drops his gear if I win," she volunteered.
I hadn't expected that. Usually I have to wheedle and cajole, sometimes bribe, to get dates and girlfriends and wives to have a little spicy fun.
Olly grinned and agreed.
Olly duly broke and all of a sudden play became more serious, but Noel eked out a narrow win.
Without conferring with me, Carolyn said: