I'm getting old. I don't like it one bit. Everything in my life is changing, slowly, one day at a time. For example, physically I'm no longer able to lift or push the things that I used to lift or push without thought or consequence. Once, I could do fifty pushups. Now, I can barely do a half push up, the down part. And forget about sit ups or pull ups. Recently, I moved the living room sofa from one wall to another wall and I spent the rest of the day recovering.
My memory seems intact but how would I know what I've forgotten if I've forgotten it? My memory is intact about one aspect of my life however, sex. I've always been a fan of sex. Almost any kind of sex as long as it involved a woman. My wife was very understanding and accommodating. I was never sure if she was accommodating because she loved me or if she loved the sex. Either way, she was an enthusiastic partner when I was younger and adaptable as I got older.
Getting older was a major factor in our changing sex life. I don't know if my diminished strength contributed to my loss of sexual function but it doesn't matter. Whatever the cause, as I aged, I lost the ability to have an erection. It occurred slowly, like everything else. My recovery time increased until it limited our sexual activity to once a day and eventually once a week. The length and stiffness of my erections diminished at the same time until I was unable to have any kind of an erection at all. I tried numerous remedies, cock rings, vacuum chambers, pharmaceuticals and injections without success. I was done experiencing the joy of feeling myself inside of a woman in heat.
Marjorie, my wife, was very understanding and adaptable. She was experiencing similar problems of her own that threatened our sexual experiences although her's were solved with copious amounts of lubricant while mine had no solution at all.
With her leadership, we resorted to oral and lubricated digital solutions. They were very effective. We had wonderful times together experimenting with activities and orifices we had previously ignored but I never really came to terms with my loss of erectile function.
Majorie's age caught up with her sooner than mine and she passed away quietly in her sleep about a year ago with a smile on her face. I fantasized that her final smile was caused by her remembering our long sexual history in her last moments.
Other aspects of my life also changed as I aged. In my youth, I was a fanatical sports fan, the more violent the better. I would attend or watch as many contests as I could fit in my schedule. I only avoided sports where the result was known in advance, like wrestling. As I aged, I became less enthusiastic about the violence and more devoted to the skill.
I lost interest in professional sports as the players seemed to be more about "me," celebrating their own accomplishments over the team's success. I focused more on college sports, especially basketball. I attended multiple home games of the local university and dedicated three weeks every year to watching the NCAA men's basketball tournament. Majorie and I attended several final four weekends, traveling to remote cities to watch contests between teams we couldn't have known in advance would be playing.
This year, the local university's basketball team had an unusually successful season. They were seeded into the annual "March Madness" tournament. A number of round one and round two games were scheduled for an arena nearby. Not the university's field house, where they played their home games but a larger arena in a city only twenty miles away.
I got on line, looking for tickets. I found a number of tickets available for round two. I looked at the round one opponent and determined that our local team would progress to round two. I found a single ticket in the middle of the student section and grabbed it. It wasn't inexpensive but I wanted to see the local team in action against premier opponents. I would also see another round two game at the same time.
Saturday, the day of the game, I drove the short distance to the arena and parked in a nearby lot. My team was scheduled for an early evening start time. I arrived in plenty of time to have an early supper and find my seat in the arena. The arena was close enough to the university that it was almost a home game. The seats in my section quickly filled up and I was delighted to see that most were students of the nearby university.
I was seated between two astonishingly attractive coeds. My experience of them, like everything else in my life, was affected by my age. Over time, my definition of beautiful had morphed from "out of my league" to "girl next door" to "I could do her." These girls, they were probably nineteen or twenty, were definitely closer to my younger definitions. Not "out of my league" but better than the "girl next door." Just sitting next to them stirred ancient memories and rekindled my disappointment with my erectile difficulties.
We watched the warm ups and the introduction of the players. We engaged in meaningless talk, introducing ourselves and sharing our enthusiasm for the local team. They correctly concluded that I wasn't a student and assumed I was an alumnus. I was but not from the local university, a fact that I withheld from them. When they asked why I wasn't seated in the alumni section, I simply answered, "What's the fun in that?"
Their mutual giggle reinforced my erotic memories.
It proved to be a close contest. During the game, my seat mates, leapt to their feet hundreds of times, cheering and shouting encouragement to their school mates or disparaging the opponents. The breeze they created wafted stimulating aromas of their cologne and shampoo in my direction. I sat, unwilling to expend the energy of repeated standing, and applauded the team's efforts and offered an occasional vocal encouragement. The game went into overtime and when our team emerged victorious, the student section went berserk. We were all standing as time ran out, screaming our approval of the result, even me. In the chaos, Janice, the coed on my right, grabbed my face and kissed me. Casey, my other seat mate, turned me around, gave me a hug and doubled down on the kiss.
Startled, and incredibly aroused, I sat down and watched the students leave. When she reached the aisle, Janice turned and yelled, "Hey Pops. Aren't you coming?"
I stood. "Where are we going?"
"To Alpha house," Janice answered.
I had no idea what or where Alpha house was but, what the hell, I was invited so I'd go. I caught up to the girls at the bottom of the stairs. "I have no idea where we're going," I admitted.
"That's okay," soothed Janice. I'll ride with you."
"I'll come too," echoed Casey.
The three of us walked to my car. Janice got in the passenger seat and Casey sat behind her. Together, they directed me back to the university campus and to a fraternity house on a side street. I parked the car at the curb and the three of us walked, arm in arm, to the three story, colonial fraternity house.
The front door was open. The front room was huge. Sofas and chairs lined the walls and a large screen television dominated one wall. A recording of the game was already playing on the screen. The crowd of at least fifty students was cheering every move by their team and booing the opponent on every play as if they hadn't just seen the game in person.
Janice and Casey led me to a sofa in the back of the room where we could see the television and sat on either side of me as they were in the arena. I felt as if they were somehow taking responsibility for me, protecting me from some unseen threat.
Feeling empowered by their attention, I took advantage of the situation. I leaned back and put my arms up on either side of me on the back of the sofa, dangling over the girl's shoulders. Janice noticed. She moved tighter against me and pulled my arm down, behind her neck and over her shoulder, dangling over her breast. Casey did the same thing.
I sat with my arms around each of them, imagining where this could go despite the realities of my condition. Janice turned her body slightly in my direction. My arm fell behind her and curled around her waist where my hand came to rest on her thigh. Casey was more direct. She took my hand from behind her and placed it directly on her thigh.
Comfortable, I began to softly stroke each of their thighs. With Casey, each stroke brought me closer to junction between her thighs. Each time I got too close to her privates for her comfort, she politely moved my hand back on her thigh where I started my advance again. Each time I got closer before she moved my hand. When my fingers finally contacted the gusset of her jeans, she looked at me confused. When I smiled at her, she settled more closely against me and allowed me to continue to slowly rub the space between her legs directly over her clitoris.
Janice followed a more direct approach. I rubbed her thigh stretching to reach closer to her center. Each time I reached as far as I could, she turned in my arm to assist me in reaching further until she was almost lying against my body and my fingers were softy rubbing her clitoris through her skirt. Based on how she felt, I concluded that she was completely shaved, a trend I'd read about but never personally experienced.
The game on the television ended to loud cheering from the crowd. By that time, a number of players from the team had arrived and were immediately surrounded my coeds anticipating celebrating the victory with them.
Someone turned off the TV, put on some music and dimmed the lights. The tone of the party changed from celebration to anticipation. One of the players who hadn't had a starring role in the win, approached Casey and invited her to dance. She accepted immediately, hopped off the sofa and walked away with him. My arm fell to the surface of the sofa.
With only one coed to focus my attention, I turned my body, wrapped my free arm around her waist and continued to gently rub her clitoris through her skirt in the dim room. I took courage from the fact that no one seemed to be paying any attention to us.
I had rubbed her clitoris a hundred times when her body began to react.
"Oh," she moaned.
I continued to rub her body with my fingers, always slowly, never changing pace or pressure. Her hips shifted and her legs squeezed together. I moved my hand from around her waist and held her left breast. "Relax," I whispered.
