First, a little about me. As i write this I am a sixty-three year old, still sexually active, bi, submissive woman. My stories are memories of a kinky life. I am still in the lifestyle. When this adventure started I was a 35 year old straight business consultant living with a loving partner. When 35, I was at about 125 pounds, today 140. I am still 5 foot 7 inches tall, what were 36 Cs are now 38 Ds. I was, I thought, a perfect 36-24-39 now I'm a perfect??-??-??. I am gifted with green eyes.
In June I met a new man, Francis, while volunteering for a local charity. Fran is a mid 60s man who recently retired to my Costal Florida community.
Fran is nice man and we talked a lot about where we were from and all that usual stuff but frankly I felt no chemistry and though we shared a love for cooking I really didn't even flirt with him. Just another new person in my life, perhaps eventually a friend.
Over a couple of months I caught him a few times looking at me as men sometimes get caught doing but never thought twice about it. Still no chemistry.
He was telling me one day as we worked about a new shrimp dish he had seen in a cookbook. I told him it sounded wonderful...yumm. He then asked if I would like to make it with him. Suddenly, I was flirting when I replied: "Why Fran are you asking me out on a date?"
He stumbled over his answer with: "Well, no, I mean yes, no I mean I thought you could come over and we could cook together and have a nice meal. Maybe get to know each other better." It has always amazed me how adult men turn into teenage boys sometimes. I of course said yes.
Saturday came. I remember thinking about him as I showered. To shave or not to shave? Will he get lucky? Will I get lucky? Do I want him to get lucky? Does he want to get lucky? I amazes me how, at 63, I turn into a teenage girl at the prospect of a new sex partner. Still no real chemistry.
I thought it would be fun to bring him flowers and a bottle of wine so I bought both. When I arrived he greeted me at the door dressed in jeans a tee shirt and an Emeral Lagatsi (sp) apron. Sorry about the spelling. I remember he was barefoot. I found that curious but he explained later how he was always barefoot or in stocking feet in the house.
I had on a pair of black tights I sometimes wear just because frankly, they complement and show off my butt. I was also wearing an oversize starched white mens dress shirt I sometimes wear because frankly it hangs low enough to minimize my big ass. I kicked my shoes off and joined him barefoot.