They agree to become sexual adventurers.
I was worn out. The way a man can be when he's had a very special session and served up all the sperm he had in him. At my age, that can be after one cum now and then but more often, after two. On the rarest of occasions, it can be after a third. But since I was in my twenties, I'd not cum three times in such a short period. And I'd never ever supplied as much of my seed as I had with you. I was suitably impressed but worn out and wondered whether I would ever be able to cum again!
Call it excitement, call it inspiration, call it sexual chemistry. I'd never been taken to the very limit like this before. I felt happy, proud actually and very pleased with myself. Not so much because I was sexually sated but also, or maybe mainly, because you seemed to enjoy everything we'd done so far as well. I'd wondered about that on the train down to London. Would we have sex at all? If we did, would you be disappointed or, would it be thank-you very much, that was nice, but you can go now? Or, hell of hells, would I be able to perform at all? Recently, there had a been a few times with a lady friend where my 'pride and joy' just didn't happen both refusing to harden and being very slow in producing anything.
Sitting there in just my boxers, I could feel my eyes droop almost as much as my cock. Despite the refreshing shower, I needed sustenance. Something to restore me to full, working condition again. If I was going to spend more time with you, I wanted to be at my best.
This was all surreal. My being there at all. Us as lovers. There was a sexual chemistry between us, even if the generation gap did create hiccups now and again. And what we'd done. I'd never almost raped a woman before. I never would, of course. Any objection and I'd have backed off before you could say, 'good evening officer.' But you hadn't objected and my roughness seemed to have enhanced your enjoyment and that was something new to me. That made me feel good. Experimenting and enjoying new adventures at my age was a big turn on.
Nor had I ever been sucked quite like that. Never by a 'Jayne'. And certainly not in such a way that you overpowered me completely, and yet towards the end I'd responded by fucking your mouth. I hadn't expected that would happen, but something inside me was aroused to such a level it felt natural. And wonderfully, you'd seemed to be turned on by that, too.
As for the volcanic explosion! Fuck, where did all that cum come from? The force of the explosion had, I think, surprised both of us. Isn't it wonderful when you're with someone who turns you on so much that you experience things you didn't thing you were capable of?
That's how I felt with you.
And the sexy way you showed me you were swallowing my offering. Oh, fuck! I just had to kiss you there and then, though I was still unsure of that taste that passed from your mouth to mine. I couldn't object, of course, but was that really my cum?
I wondered whether to be truthful with you. Not that I'd lied, but I might have given you the impression that what we were doing was a regular occurrence with me, or at least something I'd done a few times before. But the truth was, I'd rarely made love to someone I'd known for such a short time. I usually needed to know the woman better, before carnal relations took place. Another sign of the generation gap, maybe?
Carnal relations? Did I say that? Geez, that would come up again somewhere down the line. Hang on though did I also say, 'made love'? Should I have said, 'fucking' instead? Which had we done? Or had we done both and what awaited us? That I couldn't imagine!
I swivelled in the chair, back and forward, wondering what you meant by, 'James, we need to talk.'
You looked so cute in that mid-thigh length' yellow, cotton tee shirt, and your wet hair. And remarkably sexy, too. Not enough to draw a reaction from my pride and joy, I hasten to add. He needed some rest before he could be coaxed into any sort of interest again. But there's something about women with wet hair. Especially when they're wearing nothing but a tee shirt.
But back to the subject. James, we need to talk. Hmmm.?
I was happy to talk. In fact, I couldn't do much else at that moment. But when Jayne prefaces something like that, I'd learned it was to disguise that I might not like what was to come. Only one way to find out.
"Of course, Jayne," I smiled, swivelling in the chair again. "What about - MP's expenses, The Apprentice, Big Brother? Or was there something else?" I smiled. Although you had a sense of humour about as far away from that of most men I knew as England is to Oz, you did have your ironic and funny moments. This was one of them.
Her.
"Oddly James," I said tucking my feet under my bum and leaning back in the chair, stretching the material tightly across my boobs and riding it up my thighs. "Neither of those."
"What then?"
"Actually, us I suppose."
"Really?"
"Yes, really, I would hardly have said it otherwise, would I?" I asked wondering just when you would be ready again, not that I was panting for it, but just from curiosity. I mean I didn't want to fuck you to death, after all you might have a heart condition, I didn't know. 'Shit' I thought 'how the hell would I explain that to mum? A man nearly old enough to be my grandfather having a heart attack in my bedroom. Not too many excuses come to mind for that.
"No, I suppose not, so what then? I didn't know there was an us."
"James, you have fucked me twice and I have just sucked your cock and let you cum in my mouth, that does constitute some form of an us, don't you think?"
Smiling, half, I think at my 'wit' and half with pride in yourself you said, slightly smugly. "Well, when you put it so eloquently Jayne, yes I guess there must be." I liked the edge to what you said, that was much better. "What did you actually have in mind to discuss, the taste of my cum?"
"No, but did you like it?" I smiled.
"Probably needs a little seasoning."
We both laughed.
"I'm being serious James."
"Good, go on then."
"To say the least we are unusual, aren't we?"
"You mean age wise?"
"Yes."
"Then yes we are. I don't know of anyone having a, er, um, a girlfriend your age."
"Come on don't sod around, I'm not that, I'm your bird, your bit on the side, not girlfriend," I retorted, clearly showing my displeasure on the well past its sell by date term.
"Ok sure," you said resignedly clearly getting a bit pissed off at my mouthiness; something I am quite used to.
"And I certainly don't know anyone with a fifty-something old boyfriend," I retorted putting a strong emphasis on the last two words.
"Er fifty-seven if you don't mind," you replied obviously forgetting you'd told me several ages mainly mid-fifties and I thought more precisely fifty-five. It didn't matter so I let it go.
"No, I suppose not."
"And we both know it's going nowhere; there's no real future is there?"
"What with us?" You asked.
"Yes, who else are we talking about for fuck's sake," I said feeling and probably sounding a bit pissed off at your obtuseness.
"No."
"No what?" I asked.
"Future for us, Jayne."
"Yes James."
"Is this the push off then? Like I've fucked him so he can fuck off now?"
I smiled, but liked the phrasing.
"No, not at all."
"What is it then?"
"Well, what I have in mind could sort of be the start of something."
"Something like what, a dating agency called fuck a grandad?"
"That's better," I giggled "But no, it's better than that?"
"Come on you hussy, get on with it."
"Ok, here goes. We have so far done some pretty outrageous things haven't we?"
