Men Are Lie Red Wine

Thank you Blackrandl1958 for your edit, it was both useful and necessary. I have made some small changes since the edit, so all faults are mine.

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Men are Like Red Wione.

I was watching myself in the mirror, just dried off after my shower. Not bad for an eigthy-four-year-old guy, I said to myself. Smooth skin, modest, but defined muscles in arms and legs and certainly no beer-belly but no six-pack, either, I had to admit. Too bad that the "appendage" between my legs, though still functioning, was so little in use nowadays. With a sigh, I started to dress.

Walking into the kitchen, I was greeted with a kiss and "good morning, dear," from my loving wife, Anna. As usual, I did the breakfast as my wife did all the other meals, a fair share of duties. Well, some would say not, but I do have other duties in the household.

My wife, one year my junior, is the glue in the family. She is the social organiser, the excellent cook, wonderful Mom and Grandmother; I love her dearly. Unfortunately, she is not a sexual person anymore; she hugs, kiss and snugs, but that's it.

Being a pensioner does not mean I'm idle, I have a lot to do, and sometimes I don't understand how I had time to work before. Must be the age, I presume. That day, I planned to go to my workshop and work on my ongoing project: the repair of an old table for a friend of ours. Too many of our male friends are gone, leaving many widows in need of some help. That's where I step in. I was in the building industry in my working days. Not as a craftsman, but as an engineer. During those years, I did pick up quite a lot that now is useful. I am quite good at fixing things, an ability my wife advertises to all her friends.

After reading the paper, I left for my workshop. Since it was a warm and sunny day, I decided to walk through the park, even if it was a short detour. In the centre of the park is a small lake or a large pond. When I passed it, I remembered sitting on the bench sixty-plus years ago, courting she who became my wife a couple years later. In a few months, we would celebrate our diamond anniversary. Going back on the memory lane I sat down on our bench, enjoying the weather, smiling at myself, thinking about those romantic summer months we had so long ago.

After a while, I took notice of a little group of young women in their twenties sitting on a blanket at the water's edge, having something like a picnic lunch. No wonder, with weather like this, those office girls found it a good idea to spend the lunch hour, rather than in a crowded café. I smiled and thought how nice it would be to be young again. One of the girls was sitting facing me. She had long blonde hair and she looked at me and smiled. I just wondered, did she smile at me, or about me? During the next ten or fifteen minutes, this blond girl looked directly at me several times, with an expression as if she was measuring me up. I just wondered: do I know this girl? But from where? I was unable to place her in relation to any of our friends, so I decided to leave and let it go.

Just as I made this decision, the group of girls broke up. The blonde girl kissed and hugged the other three, they walked left, and the blonde girl started walking to the right, same direction I would go to my workshop. After a short distance she stopped, looked back at me and obviously made a rash decision. She took out her telephone and made a call. When she finished her call, she turned and walked towards me.

"May I sit next to you, sir?" she asked.

"Of course, please sit."

"You may wonder why I turned around and approached you", she said, "but you remind me of someone I loved who is no longer with me."

"I'm sorry you lost someone dear to you."

"My grandfather, he died five years ago. You don't look like him, that's not it. It's the obvious maturity", after a little pause she continued, "and the calm quiet and serene look you have that make me think of him when I saw you smile at me."

"You smiled at me first, didn't you?"

"No, you sat there smiling the whole time, I thought you smiled at me, so I smile back."

"No, I was going down the memory lane. Sixty years ago, I sat here on this bench with my girlfriend, who became my wife. When you smiled, I hoped it was at me and not about me, because you are a pretty girl," I smiled at her again and continued; "and I wouldn't have liked to be considered an old dirty fool."

"No, I did not smile about you, on the contrary, I smiled to you, and I would like to talk a little more with you if that is possible." After what might have been an afterthought she continued: "I certainly don't look at you as an old dirty fool. I look at you as a charming, interesting mature man. My name is Suzanna, by the way. My friends call me Anna because there is a Susan in our group."

"I'm William, but my friends call me Bill. Sure, I'm in no hurry. What I had planned can be postponed until later today or tomorrow."

"Bill, I called my boss and told him something came up and begged the rest of the day off. He said okay. Will you join me at the corner-café next to the park so we can sit and talk?"

I nodded and we started walking to the café. After a short while, Anna linked her left arm to my right, and we continued our walk, almost as lovers.

At the café, we got a cup of cappuccino each and found a table at a window. I looked at Anna, and said, "Okay, now that we're here, what would you like to talk about?"

"I would like to know a little about you and your life, but since I took the initiative to this chat, it would probably be fair for me to tell you first a little about my life, if you're interested, that is."

"Yes, you've triggered my curiosity for sure."

"To put it into the right time frame, my mother was born a few years after you sat on that bench in the park, as she is in her fifties now. She married my father when she was in her late twenties, and they had me twenty-five years ago. We were not a well to do family. Not dirt poor, put moneys were tight. I learned that at an early age." She fiddled with her cup looking at it like she wanted to extract some courage from it, and continued: "When I started school, I soon learned that our family wasn't a happy family. I saw how the other girl's and boy's parents related to their children with love and affection, something that was missing in my life." I saw her eyes misting, after a pause; "My mom tried, but she was totally submissive to my father, who was a brutal bully. He told me and Mom he didn't want a girl, he wanted a boy. Consequently, he bullied Mom and ignored me for years. Then I started to develop into a budding woman, things started to change, and not in a positive direction, I'm sorry to say."

At this point, she stopped and dried away a few tears, looked at me and grabbed my two hands and said: "It's so hard, I try to forget, but it follows me like a bad dream."

"Stop if it makes you uncomfortable. If you need to tell it, I am willing to listen, but only if you strongly need to. Don't go through mental anguish if you don't need to."

"I need to. At the time I could talk to my grandfather, he was the rock I needed, but he's not here anymore. I can't talk to my friends; they wouldn't understand. But if you are willing to listen I will. You see, there are consequences to what happened that I want to tell you about later, which are important to why I approached you today."

"Okay, I won't judge whatever happened."

"No, I am not frightened about that; neither my mom nor I did anything bad or wrong. I was a late bloomer, but on turning eight-teen I started to grow a bust. Then one evening, early at night after I had gone to bed, my dad entered my bedroom and crept into bed with me... naked. He then started to feel me up and I started to scream. It was awful!" She dried her tears with her fingers and continued after a while, "Mom heard and came running into my room and started to hit my dad trying to pull him out of my bed. He got really angry and chased Mom out, followed her into the kitchen where she grabbed a cast iron frying pan on the stove, turned around and hit him hard on the head. He fell like a rock."

"What happened then?" I asked, hugging her.

"I followed them, and when I saw him on the floor, I told Mom I hoped he was dead. She was crying, folding her arms around me, said she hoped not. He was not moving, but breathing, so my mom called 911 and asked them to send ambulance and police."

"Oh, what a terrible experience for a girl; it must have been a shock for you."

"Yes, later when I look back, it was. At the time I was relieved he was on the floor and not in my bed. The ambulance came and took him to the hospital. He had a severe concussion and had to stay a couple of days. The police came, and one man interviewed my mom in the kitchen while a policewoman took me into the living room and interviewed me. I told her that my dad tried to rape me, and Mom saved me. The end-result was that my mom got a divorce very quickly, and my dad had a restraining order against him so he couldn't contact us. He was ordered to pay mom alimony for three years. We never saw him again; he ran away to avoid paying. Mom never received a cent." - It all came out in nonstop rush.

"Was everything better after he disappeared?" I asked.

"Our life improved; we moved into my grand-fathers house and lived with him. My mom became the loving mom I needed since she didn't have to submit to a violent bully. My grandfather became the male role model and was someone I could love unconditionally knowing he would never take advantage of me. He died sadly shortly after, and Mom inherited a house without mortgage. Because of that, she could finance my college by taking out a mortgage on the house. I went to a local college, and I am now a graphic designer with a good job at an advertising bureau. My present problem is relationship related. Boys and men suck! Your turn, Bill."

"I'm a man. Do I suck, too?"

"I don't believe that; I believe you are someone like my grandfather who will not take advantage of me, or any other girl or woman. When I saw you on that bench, I had that feeling and I had to talk to you."

"Thank you for your confidence, Anna, I don't think I ever have abused a woman, either physically or verbally."

"No, I don't think you have. Please tell me a bit about yourself, whatever you are comfortable with."

I told her about my good childhood, that I married after I had completed my engineering degree and had a family with three children and six grandchildren.

"As you understand, I have nowhere near your traumatic experience. My problems during the years have been mere ripples on the water, compared to your huge waves."

"Thank you. I appreciate that, which makes me sure you are the kind of man I can trust. Before I go into the explanation of the consequences my earlier years traumatic events led to, I have one serious question to you. I would prefer if we went to a more private location for that part of my story. Will you go home with me to my flat? It's only about a fifteen minute's walk from here."

We left the café and walked the few blocks to her flat. She didn't link her arm with mine this time, but she took hold of my hand. I liked it.

Her flat was small and cosy: a decent living area with a kitchen in one corner, and she told me she had a bedroom with an attached bathroom.

She seated me on the sofa, and instead of sitting in the easy chair, she dropped down next to me and snuggled up against me, kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her skirt, as many girls tend to do.

"Before I tell you more, I would like to ask you a very big question, and very private. I promise you whatever you say, I will never say anything to anybody. It will be between us."

"Okay, but I may refuse to answer."

"Yes, I understand. It's a simple question; however, and it only requires a yes or no. Have you in your whole married life ever had sex with another woman than your wife? Yes or no, please."

"I didn't expect that question." I sat for a long time thinking. She said nothing, just holding on to my arm and looking intently into my eyes. "If I never had been with another woman," I said, "the question would have been answered immediately. I guess that thinking for so long gave me away. Yes, I have been unfaithful to my wife, and there is a story behind it. I admit, though, I haven't been a boy-scout or a perfect man without faults. Nobody is, in my opinion."

"Thank you for your honesty. I don't need to hear the details, that's up to you. I only wanted to find out if your moral compass was rigidly fixed in a manner making my wish impossible. I told you about my history and the consequences of my father's actions. I'm scared of men. Specially men around the age he was at when he tried to rape me. When someone in that age bracket approaches me, I get the shivers. On the other hand, when an elderly man in my grandfather's age bracket is near, I feel safe. I probably have a grandfather fetish."

She snuggled closer to me, laid her head on my shoulder and squeezed. I heard a faint and what sounded like, content sigh, then felt her soft lips on my cheek. Nothing was said for several minutes, then she almost whispered, "Will you make love to me please?"

I was stunned; I simply didn't know what to say. After a short while, she said, "Don't you want to? Do you not find me appealing?"

I turned towards her, got hold of her arms and turned her to face me, looking into her eyes. "You are pretty, very pretty, and I would love to make love to you, but I'm too old for you. I'm nearly sixty years your senior; it would be wrong for me to make love with such a young woman as you."

"If I want it?"

"How could you want such an old man as me? You need to find a man in your own age group."

"I'm not suggesting us to become a couple; that would be impossible for obvious reasons. I just want for once to be loved softly by someone I trust would not only go for self-satisfaction. I have never been with a man in my age group who has given me satisfaction. It has always been a one-sided event where I'm supposed to satisfy him, and then when he gets his jollies, we're finished. I'm so tired of meeting these jerks. Could you please make love to me so that I can feel loved, just for once?"

I tried once more: "Why don't you tell the man you are with what you want and expect? Tell them to think about you first, and themselves next."

"I've tried; they all say they will give me the fuck of my life, and they never do. I don't want 'the fuck of my life.' I want to be loved. Please, I ask you again, make love to me."

I took her in my arms, pulled her towards me and gave her a kiss on her forehead. She looked at me. "Does that mean yes?"

She kissed me, started to pull my T-shirt up, her hand found my bare belly and it moved upwards to my chest. I stopped her, and said, "We need to do this the proper way, not like teenagers on the couch. Let's move to your bedroom."

In her bedroom, I hugged her, kissed her and asked if her shower were big enough for two. She said the only room in her flat that was large was the bathroom, as her flat had been a part of a larger flat. I started to slowly undress her and told her to undress me. Soon we were naked, and walked hand in hand into the bathroom, started the shower and climbed in. I told her this was for us to get to know our partners bodies and as a part of the foreplay. By teasing each other in the shower, soaping her breasts and slowly stroking her little pussy while she worked on my cock got us anticipating things to come. After drying off, we cuddled in bed for a while, feeling skin against skin, stroking, petting, small light kisses, and I asked her to turn over, to lie on her stomach with her hands over her head and resting her forehead on the back of her hands.

"Please close your eyes and relax," I said.

I sat over her butt with one knee on each side, starting to stroke my hands over her back, soft but firmly, massaging her shoulders and neck with my thumbs on her spine. I kissed the nape of her neck, behind her ears, gave her little nibbles on her earlobes and whispered in her ear, "I love making love to you, I'll make you feel good, relax and enjoy."

I worked myself downwards, slowly, lovingly following my hands with kisses. After a while, with my hands slowly fondling her buttocks, licking the cleft of her rounded ass, I stepped off the bed, standing behind her, massaging her feet, moving upward, petting, kissing the inside of her thighs, close to her pussy, but not quite touching it. All the while, I heard sounds from her, almost like the purring you hear from cats. She was really turned on.

I asked her to turn around, keeping her hands over her head and her eyes closed. I started stroking and softly massaging on her shoulders, kissing her throat, and giving her a light kiss on the lips. My hands stroked down her sides, over her stomach between her breasts, licking her bellybutton and working downwards. I massaged her feet, going upwards again to her thighs, avoiding her pussy and clit. She was now at a high tension, lifting her body against my hands, begging for more. I used my tongue to tickle her left nipple at the same time my thumb and index finger pinched her right nipple. Her body started shaking and she came and came. I switched over with my mouth to her right nipple, pinching her left, and after a while, she fell back with a sigh.

She looked at me with tears in her eyes, smiling at me, and said, "I love you."

I smiled back at her, and said, "No you don't; you love what I did to you. You may like me, but that's not love. That is the pleasure a lover can give you. When you truly love someone, it gets even better. You wait and see. We're not finished yet. There is more to come. I really enjoy making love to you."

I kissed her lips, throat, and started worshipping her chest, moving slowly lower to her belly, tickling her belly button with my tongue. After a few minutes, I asked her to spread her legs and I moved in between them. I kissed her vulva, let my tongue play with her outer lips, all while teasing her nipples with my fingers. She started to be writhe, she whimpered and pressed her sex against my mouth as if asking for more. I sucked in her clit and played with it, and she exploded with a carnal scream, squirting and drenching me with her nectar. She almost lost it, as she cried softly and faintly said, "I never knew; I never knew it could be like this."

I moved my body over her and kissed her on her lips. She could taste her own sex, I'm sure, but she didn't mind; she kissed me back.

I asked her, "Are you ready for more?"

"Oh, yes please."

"If you're certain, take my cock with your hands and line it up to your pussy, I don't want to do something you will regret later. "

She grasped my cock, centered it in her moist heat, and I entered a wet and ready vagina, slowly, only an inch or so. I told her to close her eyes, move her hands away from my body and whispered in her ear, "Now our only contact is my cock in your pussy, all the sensation and feelings are concentrated on this spot and I'm going to tease you until you just can't take it anymore."

I moved my cock slowly in and out only a few millimeters, going deeper in small steps. After a while, she started lifting her hips a little to meet me, but I lifted myself up to make further penetration difficult for her. She fell back and made a new attempt and so the play went on for a few minutes until she couldn't wait any longer. Her arms went around my neck, her legs round my ass and she pulled me with a scream into her—all way inn—and she came with a howl like wolf. I pounded into her and one orgasm after the other followed until she just relaxed and fell back like a rag.

I was too heavy to lie on top of her, so I rolled around on my back with her on top of me. She was breathing heavily, resting with her head on my chest and with a faint, "Thank you," she fell asleep.