Unlike my other stories which may or not be wild figments of my fertile imagination, this one is true. It involves male/female sex, explicitly. If you don't have permission to read this kind of stuff, move on.
I'm in my late fifties. Pretty good-looking, I'm told and still in pretty good shape, thank you very much. I live in Bridgehampton, New York, right in the center of the 'Fabulous Hamptons' resort area. I live here year 'round and unlike the eclectic billionaires that comprise my neighborhood, I don't go to the fancy parties and fundraisers, horse shows or designer shops. Don't get me wrong, I love the style and artistic nature of the place, bumping into the super-famous on the street and dining on the best food. Still, I try to stay out of the villages on hot and sunny summer weekends. Who needs the hassle of searching for a parking spot? Not I. I love the place itself more...boating and fishing, deer and wild turkeys...ospreys...the ocean beaches, the bays; the creeks...the sunsets on Crescent Beach...the clean windswept smell...I love it all. In fact, I love it even more in the off-season when it becomes desolate, peaceful and utterly mellow.
There was one hitch to this serenity and that is that I am alone. Wary of marriage again, I make a wide swath away from aggressive and hungry women...who usually turn out to be real estate agents seeking the one big sale. Also, I'm not a big drinker anymore. So I don't date much and consequently, I don't have a lot of sex, at least not with others. I like to say that I like group sex because it's at least with one another person. Unfortunately, I do get lonely and in need of companionship more than I'd like to admit.
My house and my style are laid back. I like good red wine, an occasional joint, my dog and my hot tub (although not particularly in that order) and life is good. Lately, in those frequent times when I am horny, I peruse Craig's List to see if any local women might be randy enough to share the tub and a glass with me. How rare indeed! Usually, I end up looking at or reading porn, jerking off and going to bed. And that's how it was one night last May.
I looked under "Women Seeking Men" and the first ad caught me. It was entitled "Could use a hot tub..." and it was from a 33 year old in nearby Wainscott. It read:
"I'm pretty. I have a great body. So what's wrong with me? Why can't I find a man who is sensual, caring and honest? How I would love a glass of merlot and a hot tub with a good man. Can you fill this order? Email me with a picture and I will do same."
I wrote her back immediately and described myself and my situation. I sent a recent picture of me on my friend's sailboat. Within five minutes, she wrote me back and said that she was intrigued. Considering my age, she wanted to know more about me and asked if I would give her my phone number. I looked at her attached photo and she looked absolutely amazing...long blond hair, a nice large pair of breasts and an ass so small, you could put it your pocket and still have room for change. I dashed off a response with my phone number. A few minutes later, the phone rang twice and then stopped before I could reach it. The caller-id showed that it was a restricted number.
A good hour passed. By this time, I figured that she received a better offer and I'd given up waiting. Then the phone rang. I picked it up and it was her. She explained that she had called earlier and my name popped up on her caller-id, she'd hung up, gone to her computer and "Google-d" me. She said that she not only found the many pages interesting but she also sensed that I was honest and a good guy. At first, I was taken aback by this but then I admired her for her detective skills and sense of personal security. We talked for a few minutes and then she asked if I could meet her in a half hour.
"Let's meet at Starbuck's in Bridgehampton, okay?"
"Sure," I said and hung up. I hate Starbuck's. I like coffee without the public relations. I even hate that Starbuck's has sullied the uniqueness of my small New England-ish village. But to meet this woman, Starbuck's was ideal.
A half hour later, I was standing in front when she walked up to me and kissed me on the cheek. I asked her if she wanted to go in and order and she said no, that she hated coffee and Starbuck's in particular. She preferred chai and red wine. I suggested we go for a drink. I ushered her into my car and told her I had a great place for wine. I turned south toward the ocean and pulled up to the edge of the beach. The moon was causing a glow on the water and the light was just enough for us to talk, look and enjoy. I reached into the back of my car and pulled out a beach blanket and a carry-all. After we spread it out and sat down, I pulled a bottle and said, "Cabernet, sorry, no merlot." I produced two wine glasses and a corkscrew.
After a few glasses and much flirting, she told me that she had no luck keeping a man. Her last boyfriend said she was lousy in bed but she complained and said, "He should talk. The man couldn't go downtown for shit!"
I could hardly believe that this breathtaking woman could be lousy in bed but stranger things have happened. It began to get a little chilly as May evenings do and I put my arm around her and warmed her. We kissed, at first politely but within a few minutes we were devouring each other. I felt her hard nipples pushing into my chest and I rubbed my palm down her side. I felt no resistance. I whispered to her that the hot tub was bubbling. Like two giggling kids, we threw our stuff into the car and drove off.
I remember that night for all the deer on the sides of the road. It was like they all came out to wish me luck. I was crazy with lust for this young little beauty. But it would have to wait until we walked the dog, drank some cognac, smoked a joint and then made out and got all touchy-feely. I took her hand and led her through my bedroom to the deck where the tub was waiting. I began to strip as she began to hoot at me. I took my sweet time peeling off my clothes but, as I rarely wear underwear, I turned so she could watch me slide my jeans over my bare ass (which received whistles and applause).
I slowly turned back so she could see that I was sporting as big a woody as I can muster, which is about seven inches, circumcised and, as I said to her while pointing down to it, "It shoots blanks!" With that I slid into the tub.
She smiled at me and said, "Most impressive."
