Babe Banged By Bare Bone Ballistics

My story is pure fiction. I would like to express my gratitude to the lovely MindiDelux for agreeing to be a fantasy star in my first story, including mentioning her username. I'll admit that Mindi's avatar and writings inspired me to write this. Mindi has read and enthusiastically approved my tale, commenting, "YES, YES, YES to your story!!! OMG!!!! That was such an amazing, sweet and HORNY story! I feel super flattered that I can be your muse."

I hope you will enjoy my story too. I welcome your comments. Obviously I am not a professional writer, and this is my first story, so please cut me some slack.

I had to reduce this original title to 35 characters or less:

The busty beauty was belatedly banged in the bedroom by a balding bachelor with bare-bone ball-istics.

I had to reduce this original story description to 60 characters or less:

Clue: The score was unaffected by age. This is about life's most thrilling game, one we all want to play and win.

The journey begins with an unknown destination:

I was in search of female companionship, something I was sadly lacking. Usually, I date women around my age or who are at least 30 years old. Still, I enjoy women of all ages. It's the connection you forge that matters, not your age. While scrolling through a dating site, my deep blue eyes came across a picture of a lovely blonde lady named Mindi. A winsome smile further enhances her extremely attractive looks. According to what I could see, she has a striking figure, sexy white teeth, sparkling blue eyes, and long blonde hair that reaches her shoulders. Her impressive measurements read 38-24-36. I noticed she is over the age of the majority but young and much younger than me. Until I read her bio, I harbored a slight sense of jealousy towards younger guys who were able to date her. She wrote, "I love older guys." Then I noticed that she had listed daddies and older men as her fetishes. I thought, wow, why not try? Maybe I have a chance to connect with her after all, so I sent her a greeting and introduced myself. My name is Dave. I conveyed a humorous message to her while maintaining a gentlemanly demeanor.

We exchanged messages:

I got the nicest response; she was so sweet in stating her new-found preference for older guys like me. She asserted unequivocally that older men are more captivating and possess superior lady-pleasing skills. That comment gave me a feeling inside that made my heart beat faster. I even informed her that my light brown hair with a hint of gray at the burns was receding somewhat, but she showed no concern at all. She then began to tell me about herself, and over the next couple weeks, we got to know each other better and better. We exchanged numerous messages and even shared some pictures. I couldn't help but savor the additional visual treats. Her nose is even cute. She told me I have rugged Viking-like, attractive looks; that made me feel great. She was right about the Viking part being of Scandinavian descent, but I am clean-shaven and have well-groomed short hair. She is single and unattached, and I have been that way for over a year. I could tell that she is much wiser than the average lady her age, and she is someone I can easily relate to. Our conversations using e-mail were a safe way to get to know each other.

I came to find out that she lives only fifteen miles away and works in downtown Madison, Wisconsin, like me. Having graduated early from high school, she is working on her undergraduate degree and plans to go to law school. Her uncle, a partner at a well-known law firm, employs her full time in the summer when she is out of school. Despite not being in law school yet, she receives the same pay and treatment as an intern. I'm a design engineer at a custom-printed circuit board manufacturer. I have been with the same company for over twenty years.

We met for a cup of Joe:

After getting positive vibes from her messages, I suggested we meet for a cup of coffee before work one day. She liked the idea, and so one Friday morning we met in person for the first time. I had seen a number of pictures of her that she had shared, but in person, she simply took my breath away. She wore a fairly tight pair of slacks and a form-fitting button-down white blouse. She was showing me her assets in a tasteful way. She stands five feet, eight inches tall, compared to my five feet, eleven; I estimated her weight to be 130 pounds, compared to my 180. Only a hint of cleavage showed, but she is a busty beauty indeed. I saw an alluring pair of D's, for sure. She has attractive curves in all the right places, and her long legs go on for miles.

In my younger, hormonal days, I would have felt intimidated by her. At my age, I still appreciated the view, and boy did I. But I've learned to be calm and communicate with charm. She seemed delighted to meet me and exhibited a lot of poise for someone her age. We sat in a corner booth, sipping on our cups of Joe as we chatted. I learned that she lives alone in an apartment across the city from me. She told me that she had stayed behind when her parents retired early and moved to Florida last year. She declared, "It's my desire to remain in this area, where my friends and other close relatives live. Plus, the University of Wisconsin's law school is where I want to get my education. Mom and Dad are helping me while I go to school. I think they feel a little guilty about selling the house out from under me while I still lived there."

I replied, "I get it. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

She answered, "One married older brother with kids lives in California, and a married older sister with kids lives in South Carolina. I only see them about once a year." Maybe she was hoping to catch me in a lie because she asked me slyly, "How long have you been married?"

I turned around, looked away, and pretended that she was speaking to someone else. Then I asked, "Are you talking to me?" Then, sincerely, I said, "I have never been married, but I did have a pregnant girlfriend who tragically lost her life in a car accident twelve years ago."

That took the wind out of her sails. Looking truly sad, she said, "I'm so sorry to hear about your loss! I am not very proud of being sneaky, either. You don't have any children, then?"

"That's alright, Mindi. I am aware that there are plenty of jerks in the world, and I am sure you have encountered a few. Time heals; I have gotten over the loss of my girlfriend, but thank you for the kind words. I've had other girlfriends, but no children. My relationships haven't been that great since my loss. What about you? You must have men constantly chasing after you."

She interpreted it as a flattering comment and responded with a slight smile, "Yes, I've had a number of boyfriends around my age and a couple older. Most of them needed to grow up. For various reasons, I have had no truly meaningful relationships."

"It's their loss; anyway, you need to live a little before settling down." I said.

"Right," she chimed back.

The atmosphere was very friendly, but we weren't entirely at ease with each other yet, perhaps due to a hint of nervousness or the novelty of our first in-person meeting. However, everything changed when I presented her with my short poem. My rhyme is what really got things moving and started us off on the right foot. I pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of my pocket, but before I handed it over, I said, "Your many lovely messages have given me the feeling that I've known you for much longer than a month. For lack of better words, I want you to know that your choosing to meet me in person is a big turn-on. I recall your observation that my writing tends to be on the emotional side, similar to a woman's writing style. I took your comment as a compliment, and I appreciate that you seem to like how I write. Since you have been honest and shared some of your feelings about me, I sense that, considering your open-mindedness, it is the right time for me to shed a little of my soul on how I feel about you."

I Passed her my written poem:

Then I slid the paper to her, and in an absolutely heartfelt tone of voice, I said, "Getting to know who you are has motivated me to write this poem."

Dear Mindi,

I assume your real name is your byline; it's a given characteristic, not clandestine.

I learned from the cyber grapevine, that you have the perfect feminine design.

You come from the most delectable cuisine; a dish "of European ancestry" that is anything but routine.

Your hair and eyes have a gorgeous shine; a truly beautiful look that needs no refine.

On your luscious, soft curves, my eyes gladly dine; exponentially, they're more intoxicating than any wine.

You have a personality impossible to confine, owning complimenting book smarts like Einstein.

With a wonderful attitude, goldmine, you have brightened my life with sunshine.

I have seen you stylish and looking divine; so alluringly, you sparked this guy's rising incline.

As I learned more and more about thine, I couldn't help but try and align.

To resign my admiring pine, would mean that I have gone blind or taken strychnine.

You're a woman so lovely and fine, I'm sure that you have heard every line.

The truth is, it's simply impossible to define, what makes you a nine-point nine, nine, nine...

(Perhaps part two of this rhyme will be forthcoming some day.)

She was really touched by my words, and she shyly smiled and laughed. I believe she was surprised, yet she cherished the poem I penned for her. She told me no one had ever written such lovely things about her, and she thanked me from the bottom of her heart. The atmosphere was getting a little thick, so I told her one of my favorite humorous stories that I had found online. It was a little risque, but very funny. After the punch line, she playfully slapped my arm and howled with amusement. Everyone in the coffee shop noticed, and it truly was an "I'll have what she's having." moment. Then, as she was still snickering over how badly I had surprised her with the joke, I said, "I know, I know. I need counseling, don't you think?" We both laughed hard at that, and it felt like we had just bonded.

From that point on, we really hit it off. There was no longer any awkwardness; in fact, she began to act increasingly flirtatious towards me. She grabbed my hand as we walked out of the coffee shop. I felt a piece of paper being transferred into my palm; it had her phone number on it. Finally, as we were about to part, I asked her, "Are you up for a lunch date next week?"

She gave me a quick goodbye hug and said, "I would love it. Call or message me to plan it, and I'll see you then. I got to run." Oh, my gosh, I was definitely feeling some stirrings down under. I couldn't get my mind off her for the rest of the day.

Saturday message:

She left a message for me on my computer on Saturday. She thanked me again for the coffee yesterday and stated, "I am really looking forward to our lunch date; next Wednesday would be perfect for me as I can get away for two hours that day. What do you think?"

She also went on to write that she really enjoyed my company and our fascinating conversation. She also brought up "the sweet poem," as she called it, and the humorous story I surprised her with. She then said, "My day was coming," in a teasing way that felt sexy. I wondered exactly what she meant by that line. Anyway, it sounded intriguing.

Then, best of all, I noticed that she had sent me two pictures of herself in a little black dress, accompanied by the statement, "I just purchased this dress. What do you think, honestly?" My first thought was that she looked like a movie star. Where is the red carpet? A young Michelle Pfeiffer comes to mind, but Mindi has bigger boobs. The narrow straps exposed most of her silky shoulders, and the tops of her amazing breasts exuded hotness as she displayed a significant amount of cleavage. The huge swells she flaunted promised an abundance of incredible, titillating fun underneath. The dress encircled her torso with a seamless fit and ended comfortably above her knees. What gorgeous scenery! She has a flat tummy, feminal hips that flare out, and well-toned legs that protrude below; the sight was stunning. Then I took a closer look at the second picture, which featured her backside. I noticed she couldn't wear a bra with that dress because it was too low. Her butt looked bubblicious, and those legs were once again so impressive. I was aroused just thinking about her wanting to model that dress for me, but I was exponentially excited for the reason I assumed. She obviously wanted to show off more of her voluptuous body to me, and she was cunningly using the dress to disguise her real intentions.

Phone call:

I decided to call her, but after seeing those hot pictures of her, I needed to calm down first. I figured one of the main reasons she probably prefers older men is because we don't get flustered as easily. Well, maybe not, but I needed to remember that and act cool, calm, and collected, which I wasn't doing at the moment. Luckily, when I did call, she was home. Nice greetings followed, along with some small talk. I mentioned, "In my rush to invite you out for lunch, I forgot about my short trip down to Chicago tomorrow night to visit a sister. I won't even be back until Tuesday afternoon, but Wednesday will work perfect for me." We decided when to meet and where to eat lunch.

Then she asked, "Well, what do you think, mister?" Pause. "You know about the dress."

"Oh, about the dress," I answered. Deadpanning to the max, I added, "Nice dress, but I think it is far too conservative for you." Silence followed, and then she started to chuckle. I snickered, and then we both laughed.

"So you kind of like it, then?" She asked, still giggling.

I replied, "Oh yes indeed, but do you know what I like even better?"

Her response was, "What?".

This was an effortless thing for me to say: "The beauty I see inside that dress."

"You guys are all the same, except you're smoother than most." Despite her retort, it was evident in her voice that she appreciated the compliment and believed the dress had successfully conveyed her intended message.

"Tee-hee!" I bursted out.

We talked for three quarters of an hour about various topics, and the time flew by. 45 minutes is a very long time for me to be on the phone; hardly ever have I talked on the phone for that long. Eventually, I told her we should save some conversation for Wednesday at the restaurant. While saying our goodbyes, a growing fondness for each other was evident, as we both wished our lunch date was sooner.

Another couple of sweet messages on Tuesday night confirmed our plans to meet at eleven o'clock the next day. In one of the messages, I told her about my interest in history and antiques. I was surprised when she told me she was majoring in history for her undergraduate studies.

Our lunch date:

On Wednesday, I managed to work my schedule so I could take an extended lunch. When I arrived at the restaurant at 11am, I saw her standing by the door. She had arrived from the law firm, dressed conservatively and looking terrific. She was wearing a short-sleeve light gray dress. The dress complimented her figure but revealed very little skin. The light gray fabric of her dress extends from her neck to just below her knees. As she turned in my direction, there was no mistaking how lovely she looked. Her hair shone in the sunlight, and those pretty blue eyes spotted me. She was wearing a little warmer than neutral pink lipstick, light makeup, and matching mascara. She looked good enough to eat, so to speak. Her lips turned up, and we said hello and embraced. I gave her a peck on the cheek, and she presented me with one on the lips. Her lips were soft, moist, and delicious. My blood started running south, and then I forgot what I was going to say. Oh ya, duh! "Shall we get something to eat?"

She looked delighted and said, "Well, of course."

It wasn't the most intelligent comment I could have made, but her lips had my brain preoccupied. I observed that the restaurant was self-seating and said, "After you, my dear, let's get a table in the back." We took a seat in a booth at the back, where we could converse discreetly without any interruptions. At first, without saying a word, we just smiled back at each other. Her face had a warm glow, and I felt that a pleasant, so-far unsaid connection was growing between us.

Still smiling, Mindi grabbed my hand and told me, "It is so great to see you again." I noticed her hands are petite, and her thin fingers look small compared to mine. She has a hot little hand, though, and she was holding mine tight.

I said, "Me too; how's it going?"

"Super," she replied.

I bent over the table and whispered, "That's impossible."

She asked, looking concerned, "What's impossible?"

I exclaimed, "I am astounded; you are even more beautiful today than you were last week!"

Mindi's smile was radiant, and she extended her tongue, squeezed my hand, and gazed at me with an expression that could elevate anyone's mood. However, she didn't immediately respond verbally. I'm sure she receives compliments about her appearance frequently; perhaps she's grown weary of them. Regardless, she was moving around under the table across from me, eventually reaching down with her other hand to pick up something I couldn't see. She had a mischievous expression on her face and spoke with a strong impulse. "Thank you, Dave. I am glad you like me, because I really like you! I think the poem you wrote is quite telling of how you feel about me; I've read it many times. I consider you to be a mature, handsome man who is charming and exactly my type." As if to reinforce her words, I simultaneously felt hand squeezes and a bare foot sliding through my pants, leg opening, and then up to tickle my bare shin, which was about as far as her foot could reach. Despite the absence of verbal cues, her actions with her foot elicited a surge of adrenaline that pitched a tent between my legs.

Although her foot distracted me, I did express my admiration for what she had just said. "Mindi, your thoughts about me make me so happy inside that I can't find the words to fully describe how I feel. I am glad you know I like you very much."

Her comeback was, "I like you more."

With her toes still walking up and down my leg, I said, "No way."

She insisted, "Yes, way." We cracked up after that.

I thought, what oomph she emanates! Add in her exuberance, and she could have blown me away if I had let her. I needed to pinch myself and get my wits about me before she noticed I was gawping at her. So I acted nonchalant; we chatted freely about various subjects and work issues. I said, "It sounds like you work with many older guys; should I be worried?"

With a grin on her face, she stated, "There are some cool older guys at work, but my firm has a strict policy against dating a coworker, so no." I grabbed a napkin with my other hand; the one she wasn't holding, and faked like I was mopping my brow. She let go of my hand, chuckled, and gave me a lighthearted slap on the shoulder. Meanwhile, I had managed to slip one of my shoes off. Even though my sock was still on, we managed to play footsie on and off without officially acknowledging the under-the-table action. Her foot felt petite, like her hands, but she can definitely hold her own when playing footsie; what a frisky babe she is! At one point, I glanced under the table to see bright red-painted toenails.

We ordered food, and then she asked me about my interest in history. I mentioned that my knowledge of American history is a strength, and she agreed that is also her area of expertise. We engaged in a lively conversation about various historical facts to gauge each other's level of understanding. I could tell she is very intelligent on the subject.