My unusual birthday
This is a story about how things can sometimes play out after prostate cancer and a total prostatectomy. This operation can leave the patient with a considerably smaller penis and unable to get an erection due to nerve damage. The various medications described, and their effects, are real but Invicorp can only be used once shown how to self administer by a urologist.
Most birthdays are pretty much the same these days but this one was somewhat different. No it was completely different. Unfortunately, my wife could not be with me to celebrate, as she had to go away for a few days but she left me a card on the sideboard which simply said.
"Happy birthday darling and be careful what mischief you get into. I have arranged for a few drinks for you at the pub, so don't waste them."
Mischief had always been our euphemism for sex outside our marriage. We had had a long and successful marriage, but neither of us valued monogamy, in fact we both thought it unnecessary and always freely discussed whatever 'mischief' we had got up to. This was usually followed it by some pretty whacky, if not necessarily athletic, sex. Well what do you expect in your mid seventies?
When I say whacky I mean that we both enjoyed a bit of BDsM and shared our wildest sexual fantasies. As we are both what they tend to call switches, it was sometimes hard to tell who was going to do what and to whom.
Anyway, no wife to share my birthday with, so I followed instructions and set off for the pub. Going looking for 'mischief' was far from my mind, as I had not long recovered from an operation that made taking the lead role in mischief making a lot more difficult than previously.
Erections had been getting harder and harder to come by and we had resorted to chemical help. Sildenafil was OK, but planning our sexploits an hour ahead just seemed unnatural, a bit like going to a restaurant hungry and being told there won't be a table for an hour or so.
The next step had been to take a small dose of Tadalafil every day so that any activity would spark a response and, sure enough, as soon as activity started my cock obediently came to life with just about sufficient power to satisfy us both.
I so remember the transition to Tadalafil as I had to give the prescription to a very young pharmacist's assistant. She had consulted a slightly more mature girl, even she was a thirty something, who made the name memorable for all concerned.
She simply spread her hands, palms upwards, below her waist and said. "Ta Da lafil." In a theatrical way, as if demonstrating the effect of this wonder drug on her imaginary penis.
I had long since ceased to be embarrassed by my difficulty and found it highly amusing when the younger one looked at me as if to say.
"He can't possibly still be wanting to fuck, at his age that's just disgusting."
"Yes miss," I thought to myself, "we are only here to produce the next generation and I'm still trying!"
Anyway, after the op, even Tadalafil was not really up to the job as some nerves had been damaged and penetrative sex was getting nearly impossible. Orgasms were still achievable and still quite satisfying, but a willing mouth, or hand, was usually required.
Enough of my troubles. It's my birthday and I'm off for a pint. Being a Wednesday there were very few people in, and I sat at one end of the bar cradling my beer.
There were two very attractive, and very different young ladies, at the other end of the bar. I thought they looked vaguely familiar, but Gina, my wife, says that I think everyone looks familiar these days. I contented myself with fantasising about them. The tall one stood while her friend perched on a bar stool.
Perving, as I call having sexual fantasies about people I'm watching, I find to be such an innocent pleasure, unless of course you get caught! These two girls, they were probably in their forties, but they were girls to me, were on some sort of night out judging by their somewhat revealing outfits.
One was about the tallest and slimmest girl I had ever seen. She must have been over six feet, had dark ebony skin, hair in multiple tight bound plats and was clad in a jet black strappy silk dress, that clung to her wherever it touched.
Her profile was amazing, the sheer black dress just fell straight down at the front from her small breasts but very prominent nipples, and off the delightful curve of her obviously well toned buttocks, at the back.
The dress, apart from the high heels, was very obviously the only thing she wore. Why she felt she needed high heels, I have no idea but she looked stunning.
Her companion was what I like to call a mucky blond, I believe the correct term for this hair colour is dirty blond, but I like the term mucky blond better. She too was in good shape but nothing like as athletic looking as her friend. Nice pert tits that were clearly not in need of a bra and wobbled delightfully as she moved around.
As she squatted on her bar stool her short skirt became quite revealing and every time she changed position I got a glimpse of her white cotton panties, one of my most long lasting fetishes. One thing that was guaranteed to stir my cock into life, back in the day, used to be white cotton panties.
It all stemd from a night in my youth, when I had a most memorable encounter with a girl a few years older than myself, who wore such a garment.
She wasn't going to allow penetrative sex, or no fucking, as she so delicately put it, but we both wound up naked on her bed and I had my first ever feel of a sexually excited vagina as she wanked me off into her white cotton panties. I still remember the firmness of that erection and the ferocity of my ejaculation: gorgeous.
She told me to take the panties home, wash them, and give them back to her. Of course I did neither and her knickers had pride of place under my pillow for some time until my mother found them, but that's another, even more embarrassing, story.
Anyway, that's the tale of the white cotton panties fetish, and I was enjoying the occasional glimpse as I remembered Jennifer's warm moist haven, you don't forget an experience like that, or her name.
If her young firm breasts were a delight, the slipperiness of her sex had come as a complete surprise and, suffice it to say, it hadn't taken much work on her part to bring things to their inevitable conclusion.
The old cerebral cinema was working overtime. Two of my top fantasies were staring me in the face, a tall willowy black girl and a mucky blond wearing white cotton panties, but, very unexpectedly, things were about to get better.
They had obviously decided that they would have some fun before heading out to their party, or maybe they just caught me ogling, I don't know, but they came over and started chatting.
Paula was little miss white cotton knickers, she was mid forties I guessed, and had that mucky blond hair, cut in a bob, a tight semi transparent blouse, and that skirt that had brought back memories of Jennifer's short, but oh so sweet, hand job.
Her companion, Ayana, was definitely having an adverse effect on my blood pressure. She towered above me, OK well maybe not towered, but she was a good couple of inches taller, so standing beside me, as I perched on my bar stool, her very prominent nipples were right in front of me and completely un-ignorable.
As you may have guessed, my preoccupation with tall black girls came from another earlier experience. The lady in question gave me my first lessons in oral sex, something I had never even heard of at the time, such was the cloistered existence of a teenage boy in the sixties.
I got to explore her genitals at very close quarters, all the while being encouraged to either lick more softly or a bit higher up, and so on. The whole experience had been mind blowing. I hadn't had the opportunity to see many vaginas, or their customary luxuriant growth of pubic hair, but Naomi was different, very different.
She had a bush of the tightest of tight black curls, that barely hid anything, quite beautiful pink lips that flowered under my tongue, and the aroma of sexually excited woman, along with her words of encouragement, made me a life time devotee of cunnilingus.
Needless to say that, when she returned the favour, it didn't last long either. I was already pretty fired up after watching her writhe about on the bed and the effect of the suction and what she did with her tongue took me over the edge very quickly.
The conversation was fun and cheered me up no end. Not that I was depressed, but who doesn't enjoy slightly risqué conversation with two delightful girls that remind him of some of his favourite memories.
Paula then took the conversation to the next level.
"We know a lot about you Bob, quite apart from the fact that you like to perv ladies underwear in the pub!"
I was shocked into silence, caught red handed.
