How Old Are You

How Old ARE you?

I was paying way more attention to the ladies at the next table than to my hunting partners, who were rehashing the same old shit. It was a perfect night in the Hill Country of central Texas; 72 degrees with a full moon shining down, and not a cloud in the sky. The forecast said around 40 at sunrise, with a high near 70, so hunting would be good early on, and we would have good weather to replenish the feeders later.

We were up from Houston; all of us were in upper-management for a major oil company and made plenty of money, a very small portion of which we allocated for our hunting lease. We got up here three or four times a year, and, when we all had wives, they traditionally accompanied us at least once so they could 'visit all the cute little shops around the square' and buy more shit we didn't need. Two had fallen by the wayside: John caught his wife fucking their pool boy, and Tom's wife left him for another man, which suited him just fine. He was enjoying his late bachelorhood to the max.

My wife and Mike's weren't along this trip, preferring to go to a 'swap meet' somewhere so they could buy more useless shit we didn't need. Maybe that would sate Susan's need for useless shit, and she would forego coming up here this year. That would be a huge relief, as she was as high maintenance on a hunting trip as she was at our home in River Oaks. Mike's good-looking wife, Sara, wasn't as bad, but she was flirty and far too tempting to be around.

The giggling of the women broke into my reverie. The other three guys at my table kept yammering, but I surreptitiously turned my full attention to the ladies.

Usually, I can tell a woman's age, but these three were ageless. There were a few clues that the slender shorthaired blonde was older than my age of forty-nine, but the other two could have been slightly younger or older. The one with platinum hair had a very young face and a tall slender body with long legs, but the longhaired brunette with blonde highlights was the one who fascinated me.

She was wearing a short body-hugging dress that proved beyond a doubt that she had gorgeous legs, a curvy body with a round ass and perky tits, the swell of which peeped out of the low cut dress. From her wiggling around while they laughed and talked, I already knew she was wearing thigh high stockings with lacy tops, and her thighs invited me to crawl between them and feast. My fascination grew when I heard her throaty voice describing a sculpture of a well-endowed naked man she had seen.

The lovely ladies were sitting at their table on the front porch when we arrived, and they were drinking the homemade Sangria that was the specialty of the wine bar, as were we. Their glasses were nearly empty, and there were signs they would leave soon, so I went to the bar and ordered a round for both tables. The bartender came around and started filling two pitchers; she grinned at me, nodded to the front porch, and asked "See something you like over there?"

I looked confused, so she explained, "They come in every Thursday; one is a widow, one is divorced, and one is happily married. Men frequently buy them drinks, but it never goes anywhere. Plus, they are a bit older than you and your buddies; are you sure you wouldn't rather wait for me and my two friends, who are sitting on the couch in the other room?" I looked, and they were really cute young thirty-somethings who looked like they were here to party.

"I'm not trying to hustle them, sweetheart, I just appreciate their happy conversation and good looks. You should pay them to sit on the front porch: I was headed to the bar down the street, but turned in here because I saw them."

"Okay, since your intentions are honorable -- the blonde, Gale, is widowed; her husband was a cop killed in the line of duty. The tall one, Jan, is divorced; she's an artist whose husband liked to play in San Antonio when she was away at art shows. The little curvy one, Katy, is married with grown kids. She's sexy as hell and loves to flirt, but don't get your hopes up. Her husband is a rich dude; I don't know his real name, but everyone calls him Blue.

She leaned over, giving me a better look at here formidable titties; she spoke quietly, in a conspiratorial manner: "Can you guess why they call him Blue?" I shrugged. "Because the Blue Whale has the biggest penis of all mammals; see why she's hard to pick up? Her hubby is rich, personable, and hung like a Blue Whale!"

I rolled my eyes, and repeated, "I'm not trying to pick them up; just talk a bit."

She laughed: "Well, we have a big table out back that will accommodate all seven of you, and a concrete slab for dancing. It's quieter and more private out there, if you can convince them to move. Anyway, have fun, but don't forget me and my friends when they leave you high and dry." She petted my arm, winked, and handed me the pitchers of Sangria.

I returned to the front porch, where I set one pitcher on our table, and carried the other to theirs. "I don't want to interrupt your fun, but I've enjoyed your happy chatter and the beauty you bring to the porch so much I brought you a pitcher of your favorite drink. May I?" They looked up skeptically, evaluated me for a moment, and the hot but married one replied, "We were about to leave, but maybe one more, since you are such a gentleman." She raised her glass; I poured, and then poured for the other two.

"These are my friends: Tom, Mike, John, and I'm Tim. And you are?" "I'm Jan," the taller one offered; "this is Gale, and this is Katy." Katy was the hot married one, Gale the one with short blonde hair and a slender body.

"Since we all know each other now, and I'm such a gentleman, the bartender told me there is a round table out back where we could sit together and visit. Would you join us?" They looked at each other, looked us over again, and Jan answered, "I think we would enjoy that, as long as you understand this is visiting, and not something more."

"Gotcha," Mike replied. "We make it a rule to never turn down a chance to talk to pretty ladies, regardless of the ground rules."

We may have agreed, but we're fairly wise old foxes; we seated them so it was girl between two boys. I sat to Katy's right; Mike was to her left, so the three marrieds were together. Gale was to my right, then Tom, then Jan, and finally John, who had the open chair to his right. John and Jan paired off and began a conversation almost immediately; both were tall, lanky, and good looking, with outgoing personalities, so that wasn't a surprise.

Tom and John were older than Mike and I by almost a decade, but Jan seemed unconcerned.

How well Tom and Gale hit it off was a surprise. He was usually reserved and a bit reticent around women, but he was gazing deeply into Gale's blue eyes like a happy puppy, and she obviously appreciated his adoration because she was happily chattering away.

Mike and I had our hands full with the vivacious Katy, who almost immediately began touching and teasing us. As she turned from man to man, her short dress rode up until we were looking at the delectable, well-tanned thighs above her thigh highs. Up close, she was so damned cute I wanted to put my arm around her, give her a big hug, pick her up, and set her on my lap! Mike looked equally smitten, and she read both of us like a book! Her vivacious flirting increased in equal proportion to our fascination.

The pitchers of Sangria quickly disappeared, so, over the not-very-strenuous protests of "I've had enough" I went back inside for another.

"You guys are having way more success than I'd have guessed. Is that because of your charm, or have the Cougars selected you for their evening meals?" Brianna the bartender teased, while she filled a pitcher. "I'm not sure who selected who for their evening meal, but I'll definitely feast or be feasted upon if given a chance," I answered.

She handed me the pitcher; I turned to leave, but then turned back; "You said Cougars; how old are they?" She gave me a grin, shook her head, and waggled her finger. "Never ask a lady's age! Let's just say they are old enough, and leave it at that. By the way, the one you are eyeing like a tasty treat; remember that she's got a very yummy husband that every girl and woman in town wants, so you will need to bring your A game to pull her away from him for a night." I winked and went back out.

After setting the pitcher on the table, I asked Katy if she would like to dance. They were playing classic rock songs that went back into the 1960s and 70s as well as country songs. Silver Wings was playing as she walked into my arms, and I was immediately aware of her jutting breasts against my chest and the way her butt flared from her hip. She danced close without being too close, followed me effortlessly, and looked up at me with those green/hazel eyes while we talked. I was growing more enchanted by the moment.

The next song was The Tennessee Waltz; I asked her for another, she accepted, and we waltzed. She was a light as air, and I determined that her boobs were probably natural B-C cup, but they stood out like a teenager's.

The third song was a rocker by the Rolling Stones -- Jumping Jack Flash. I started to steer her toward the table, but she pulled me back and threatened, "If you don't dance this song with me, I'm going home!" Now, I'm certainly not Patrick Swayze on a dance floor, but I can rock and roll, so I accepted. The other two women drug the other three men onto the floor, and we learned as a string of rock songs played that however old the ladies were, they were far better dancers and far better conditioned than we were.

It was a cool night, but I had a light sheen of sweat on my face; the women looked as cool as ever, without any trace of smudged makeup. I was thrilled when the tempo changed and Ebb Tide came on, but Mike beat me to Katy and took her in his arms. She was more relaxed with him, perhaps because the others stayed to slow dance. I saw the pitcher was empty when I got back to the table, so I took it inside to trade for another.

"Those ladies can ROCK, can't they?" the bartender enthused. "Wow! We were watching out the window, and you guys are pretty good, but you couldn't keep up AT ALL!"

With a grin, she continued as if bemused. "Maybe that's because Gale and Jan take the dance exercise classes that Katy teaches two mornings per week. Oh, and they all do Pilates twice a week, AND they play in a tennis league." She cocked an eyebrow, and asked, "You claim this is all innocent fun, but ask yourself if you are in good enough condition to survive a night in bed with her?"

She crooked her head and assessed me; "After a closer look, I kinda doubt it. Her hubby calls her his Sex Machine, and you look like you spend too much time behind a desk." I ignored the insult, which was accurate, and questioned her; "Huh? Her hubby told you that his wife is a sex machine?" "No, but it got a little drunk in here one night and a guy asked him if she was in good in bed as she looked. He laughed and answered, 'I don't call her Minx and Kathleen the Sex Machine for nothing!'"

I took the pitcher out and set it on the table. When that song ended and another slow one started, I cut in. Mike went back to the table, and I took her in my arms. She looked up and gave me a dreamy smile; damn, she cute! "Minx, huh? So tell me - why is that your nickname?" Without a bit of embarrassment she replied, "That is one of my husband's pet names for me: he also calls me his Sex Machine and his Sex Bunny. Who told you that? Brianna, I'll bet!" "Yes, she did. But why does he call you that?"

Actually, the answer was obvious -- she did look like a curvy little 5'3" built-for-sex machine, and she was in phenomenal condition. Brianna was right: I'd struggle to keep up! Hell, I'm sure any male would have trouble keeping up with her, but, at least Mike was available to help, so maybe between us...

"A gentleman does not ask a lady about her sex life!" she huffed, but with a grin. I stepped back to get a little separation between us, and looked her over carefully, beginning with her brightly painted toes, her cute little feet and ankles, proceeding along those luscious legs, across her small waist, over those delectable tits, and ending with her grinning eyes. "Never mind; I think I figured it out."

She pinched me and, in that husky voice, asked, "What did you decide?" "I decided you are the Eveready Bunny in bed, and you would likely cripple me if I took you on...alone. If Mike would help me, however, I'm confident I'd survive and have a memory to keep me warm the rest of my life!"

She pinched me again, but she looked intrigued. "You are rude and arrogant, aren't you? Are you sure you and Mike can get the job done? It might take all four of you!" "And I'm sure they would be more than happy to help out, but they seem otherwise occupied. Will they survive your friends?" "Jan will be kind; she's a love-making kind of girl. Gale, well, I don't know much about her. This is the first time I've seen her look interested in a man since her husband died. That might mean she's wearing out a lot of batteries, she has a 'special friend', or, she has six years of pent-up sex ready to explode and destroy your buddy."

"What about you, Sex Bunny? Do you wear out a lot of batteries, have a special friend, or does Hubby give you all you need?" She didn't back away from my challenge: "Hubby is a stallion, and he takes really good care of me...when he's around. Unfortunately, he travels a lot. He's been hunting in Canada for a week and won't be back until next week, so I'm looking for a battery sale."

The song ended, she giggled, warned me not to say anything, and we went back to the table. I picked up the pitcher and asked, "Do you need a fresh drink, Minx?" She glared, slapped me on the thigh, and exclaimed, "Yes, asshole. And then you need to go sit in the empty chair over there!" I poured her drink and mine, and then sat down in my usual chair. "I told you to move!" she said commandingly, suppressing a grin.

"I would, but then I wouldn't be able to see those gorgeous legs and the lacy tops of your hose as well."

Everyone at the table had been chuckling at our exchange, but now they roared. Katy gave up, and laughed with them, shaking her pretty head before pulling her dress down a couple of inches and draining her cup of Sangria.

For the next hour Mike and I took turns dancing with Katy, while the others remained paired up. She kept a respectable distance, but her friends were belly to belly with mine, and they were whispering while they danced.

As the witching hour approached, a nervous Gale approached us: "Katy, can you get these guys to give you a ride home? John is going to drive me home, since I'm a little tipsy, and Tom is going to drive Jan home for the same reason." Katy raised an eyebrow, but responded, "Don't worry; I live three blocks from here, remember? I can walk. I'll see you tomorrow at Pilates."

After her friends left, she danced a lot closer, whether her partner was me or Mike. In fact, she was rubbing her mons on the hard cocks we sported on the dance floor, and at the table she was showing us those lovely legs all the way to her white lace panties. We also learned that her bra matched her panties, and that her perky tits were round and high on her chest.

I cajoled, "I heard you mention having a hot tub; I'd love to get in one and relax tonight." She brightened, and replied, "That sounds like a great idea... if you both promise to be good boys!"

We did, of course, and she added, "Then we need to be circumspect leaving here. This is a small town with a lot of gossips, including Brianna. I'm going to stop by the bar and tip her, then start walking home on the street that crosses the highway a block south. You guy go north around the square, drive around for ten minutes or so, and circle back. My house is in the middle of the second block; it has a six-foot board fence around the sides and back, and a wrought iron fence in front. Pull in and park behind the shrubs so no one can see your pickup."

We arrived exactly ten minutes later, after riding around and planning our strategy. Much would depend on her reactions, so we had plans A, B, and C; all, however, ended up with us missing the morning hunt, but having memories to last a lifetime.

The shrubs we parked behind were actually a massive growth of primrose jasmine that grew parallel to the street, so our truck really was invisible. Katy met us on the front porch wearing a sleeveless cover up. Her bare arms and legs looked firm and strong yet feminine, and she had her hair up in a bun. We ogled her as we walked up; she smiled at our impertinence, and gave us each a kiss on the cheek in payment.

She led us around back to the big covered pavilion that housed their hot tub, as well as a well-equipped outdoor kitchen and a wet bar. The groomed part of the back yard was probably an acre or more, with a pool maybe 20 steps out from the kitchen, but native plants surrounded the lawn to the west and south. Their 'house' would be called an estate in Houston, with all the grass, flowerbeds, shrubs, and native plants, and at least twenty big oaks and Pecan trees. We complimented her on the layout, so she turned on a few more lights and pointed out her favorite things, which included a building next to the back fence that housed 'our workout room'.

She walked back to the light switches and told us to read the sign: Welcome to our hot tub; bathing suits optional. In a teasing voice she asked, "Since I'm confident you didn't bring swim suits, your choice is nude or boxers, but only if they are clean!" I looked at Mike and we started taking off clothes. She turned off the lights in the yard, but left the lights on in the pavilion and watched us undress. I'm not shy, and neither of us has anything to be ashamed of in the cock department, so we stripped naked, laid our clothes on a chair, and climbed into the hot tub; it felt heavenly.

Katy turned off all the lights except some indirect lighting on the poles of the pavilion, took off her cover up, and walked to the steps. He turned on the lighting wheel in the hot tube so it changed colors every few seconds, and climbed the three steps. She straightened up and paused for a moment on the top step for effect. The bright blue bikini was outlined in white; it accented and displayed her assets perfectly!

"Now THAT is a heavenly body!" Mike stated. "UMMM!" I agreed. She smirked, stepped onto the shelf inside the tub, and then down into the tub; she pivoted and sat down on an area with a lot of jets. "Ahhh!" she purred, as she was immersed in the hot water and the jets propelled relaxing streams against her.

She leaned her head back and started kicking her feet gently near the surface. She was talking to us, but we were highly distracted because the light wheel gave us a great view of her shapely legs and the tiny bikini that barely covered the good stuff. We carried on the best conversation we could while sitting there naked watching her lovely body and trying to hide our hardons, but I have no remembrance of what was said.

I was much more intent on observing the cutest, sexiest woman I'd been around since I was in my early twenties. However old she was, she filled out the bikini better than a teenager, and was more shapely than any older woman I'd encountered. Our wives were still lovely, but in spite of diet and gym memberships, their waists had thickened, asses fallen, and their tits sagged a bit. Katy had tits barely contained by her bikini, a narrow waist that flared into wide hips, a round butt, and those maddeningly gorgeous legs! If she were a member of our country club group of 40-and 50-somethings, she would be the most desirable.

Perhaps because we were such poor conversationalists, she decided we needed music. She climbed back out, giving us another view of her round ass getting out and used the remote laying on the table to turn on a CD player. Getting back in gave us another look at her remarkable assets, and we both told her how luscious she looked. She smiled, and resumed torturing us with those hypnotically kicking legs.