Preface
Sharing my May-December escapades has been very enjoyable. I had many successes but not every attempt turned out well. After an amazing success with one of my teachers and then with a cousin who was twice my age, I hit a dead end with a former best friend's aunt. In fact, "hit" is the operative word.
My best friend from elementary school and I drifted apart in junior high when he chose new friends who were getting high and doing things in which I had no interest. We remained cordial with one another; we just stopped spending time together. So much so that I was unaware he'd enlisted in the Air Force right after graduation from high school.
I was driving past his house one afternoon when I decided on a whim to stop by and see if he was there. His younger sister, Debbie, answered the door and let me in. She told me he wasn't in because he was in Texas and then explained why. She told me, "He's been in basic training for a month now. " We spent a few minutes reminiscing and catching up when the front opened without a knock. I expected her mom but it was actually her Aunt Donna, an attractive woman of about 45.
Debbie told me she'd been asked to the junior prom by a guy she'd been crushing hard on but didn't know how to dance. Coincidentally, her aunt dropped by at that exact time I was there to give her a few pointers. I was going to excuse myself when Donna said, "No! Please don't go on my account. I won't be long. I just wanted to give Deborah some quick pointers on slow dancing." I told her I could use some help in that department, too, and she said, "Then it's settled. I'll help both of you while I'm here!"
After a few minutes of Donna's tutelage on the basics, she volunteered to be my partner to see if I'd picked up anything at all. I wasn't a good dancer but I did had a little bit of experience thanks to my high school friends in the Mormon Church who occasionally invited to church-sponsored dances. Even so, I pretended to have two left feet in hopes of finagling a private lesson at her house down the road. I tried not to be too obvious by just stepping all over her feet but I was bad enough to get her to say (rather reluctantly), "Oh, my. That's not too bad, Cal, but you're going to need a little more work and unfortunately, I don't have any extra time right now. But Deborah? You're doing great! Your young man is going to be very impressed.
As Donna was leaving, I told Debbie I'd better scoot, too, and followed Donna outside. As we got to our cars I said, "Oh, let me get that for you" and stepped around to her side to open the door.
"Thank you, Cal! You've become quite the young gentleman since the last time I saw you—what was it—three years ago?"
"Six, actually."
"Really? It's been that long? Oh, my goodness how time flies. Well, you certainly do look good and it was nice seeing you."
She slid into the driver's seat and before I closed her door I asked, "Is there any chance I might actually get a bit more help with my dancing? I mean, if you can even call it that."
Donna laughed and said, "Of course. I'd be glad to help. What works for you?"
To my surprise, she agreed to meet the next afternoon at her place at 2pm which meant her husband, Jim, would be at work or maybe even out of town. I showed up with high expectations and I was brimming with confidence having conquered two other very attractive, middle-aged women in the last six months. I also had a girlfriend who was in college and now home for the summer but like Jell-O, there was always room for more when it came to attractive women. And Donna seemed ripe for the picking!
After a few minutes of small talk, Donna reviewed the basics with me again then put on some music we could dance to. This time, I put my best foot forward (pun intended) and although I wouldn't be winning any contests, Donna was duly impressed. "Wow! What a difference a day makes! Where's that other left foot you showed me yesterday?"
"You're a great teacher," I told her as we continued dancing. Based on our small talk, I got the distinct impression her husband was gone a lot and when he was home, not all that engaged with his very nice-looking wife. I felt even more emboldened to see if I might add another notch to my belt at the end of the second song.
During the middle of that second tune, I pulled Donna's hand in and held it against my chest. There was no resistance. I then let go of it and as if on cue, she put her arms around my neck and moved in very close to me. I was convinced this was yet another lonely, middle-aged woman in need of some afternoon delight so as we got near the end of the song I moved my head back and said, "You know, this is really nice. Thank you for spending time with me."
Donna smiled and I was totally wowed by her perfect teeth and still very pretty face. "It was my pleasure, Cal. I can't imagine any middle-aged woman not enjoying the company of a very handsome, younger man."
The last bars were playing and our eyes were still locked as I leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. As my eyes were closing I sensed hers opening wide and as our lips met, she pulled back sharply and slapped me across the face. "What in the hell do you think you're doing? I'm a married woman and I have NO interest in you like—that! You need to leave right now!"
I didn't apologizing or even bother speaking. I just quietly picked up my jacket and left her standing there pointing at the door.
Okay. So I was now two for three. Any baseball player would be ecstatic to have that kind of batting average and as the song said "two out of three ain't bad."
Little did I know number three was just around the corner and that my Mormon girlfriend, Karen Moreland, would be the one to introduce me to another member of the local Mormon church, Mrs. Lauren Bagwell.
Chapter 1
Summer brought other changes, as well. The first was that Karen was home for the summer. That meant I had a hot young girl to bang almost anytime I wanted. The only downside was her Mormon faith led her to constantly mention (prior to our fucking) how wrong it was for her to let me fuck her. That got old very fast.
The second was the fact that the teacher I'd been banging whenever her husband was out of town was now my former teacher. Of course, being married meant that was really a distinction without a difference because news of the affair would still end her career and her marriage. Like Karen, she mentioned our age difference and student/teacher relationship ALL the fucking time and I was getting sick of that, too.
The third was that my now-37 year old cousin, Nancy, who also kept brining up our age difference and the fact that we were related.
I now faced the impossible dilemma of balancing three sexual relationships while trying not to let the other two find out. It reminded me of a very old movie starring Tony Curtis called "Boeing, Boeing" in which he had a revolving door of flight attendants (or stewardesses as they were called in 1965) and his attempts at keeping them all apart.
Faced with the impossibility of juggling all of this, I finally told both older women they were absolutely right and that we had to end this. In both cases, they seemed genuinely relieved and yet both of them begged me stay and fuck them one more time. Well, okay. I can do that.
During the two weeks of summer in the greater Seattle area, it can actually get very warm. Every ten years or so, it even gets hot for a day or two when the temperatures rise above 90 degrees. Most years, a few days in the mid-80s is considered a heat wave. This particular summer brought a very unusual five-day stretch of that kind of "blistering heat."
I was getting ready to go to college myself. I'd been accepted to the University of Washington and coming from a dirt-poor family, I had to save enough money to pay for my education myself. I wanted to be an engineer and my primary interest was computer engineering. In order to save money, I worked full-time on a dairy farm milking cows, baling hay, shoveling silage (and a lot of shit), and doing other odd jobs. I was always on the lookout for other work that would bring in some extra cash. Karen was really good about talking me up to folks at her local church ("ward" in Mormon speak) and I got several jobs painting houses, mowing lawns, and hanging drywall.
The hardest job turned out to be for a woman named Lauren Bagwell who was also a Mormon. She was married to an airline pilot who gone a LOT. In fact, I later learned that he volunteered to fly as money hours a month as FAA regulations allowed in spite of the fact that they had no children and more money than they could ever spend. It's VERY unusual for Mormons not to have a bunch of children. Having none almost always indicated fertility problems and this was no exception. Lauren wouldn't tell me who was at "fault" but I suspected it was probably her husband. I'll explain why later.
Lauren and her husband, Reed, lived on a huge sprawl of land in the suburbs of King County. They had some 80 acres of land and all of it was fenced in. Many of the fence posts were in dire need of repair and quite few others needed to be replaced altogether. One Sunday evening, Karen told me that "Sister Bagwell" wanted to hire me to take of this for her so she set up a meeting with her for me on Monday after I finished working on the farm.
I got there around 6pm which was as early as I could after going home, taking a bath (we had running water but no shower), and eating dinner first. Her home reminded me a lot of the home of my other Mormon friend, Sterling, whose dad was also a pilot but for a different airline. He loaned me two horses on my first date with my cousin Nancy so I could surprise her with something that didn't cost a lot of money. That and a key to his dad's cabin on the lake allowed me to make love with her once I was able to make her special after a long run with jerks who'd all treated her poorly.
