He was a wiry man seated on a bar stool, Frederika judged him about sixty: but he was seventy.
His aim, he had mentioned it casually, was still to be sexually active at ninety and fuck an eighteen-year old on his birthday. "Imagine that," he had said with his ever-engaging smile, "a girl a fifth of my age!"
Frederika had looked shocked - and was, "Get to 108 and she'd be a sixth of your age!" She meant it as a criticism.
He had not taken it that way. "Unlikely I will be alive, very unlikely at 100 almost impossibly unlikely at 108, let alone get it up and do the deed. I would need help."
"Nurses in white uniforms?" A little scathing.
"Preferably! Probably need the same at ninety."
"Girls mature younger than eighteen these days."
"Sexually mature?"
"Yes, that is what I meant. A fourteen-year old or even a twelve-year old can be deceptive - look older - have the enlarged breasts, developed pudenda and pubic hair of a woman." She had made her language almost technical.
"I would not wish..."
"But would you know? And what if those white uniformed nurses were assisting?" She had thought he would be attracted to the idea, the idea of young girls, and then she could really let rip. Was it the drink fuelling her?
"Unethical for the nurses. Wrong... let alone the girls"
"But you are paying them well. Money talks. At 84, six years early, you could be pleasing yourself with a fourteen-year old not five but six times younger than yourself or a twelve-year-old seven times younger. Does that not fit into your plans even better?"
"Remarkable really. Six years' earlier and seven times younger. But, no, I shall stick to 90 and the eighteen-year-old. I think that is a good enough goal!"
He had not fallen into her trap of fantasising about under age sex: not that many young people waited patiently to be eighteen before exploring sex!
"A virgin?"
"Not a requirement. She can be sexually experienced. There with her boyfriend even."
"What, at the same time!"
"Why not? Nice to see the virile young man at work before I creak into action. Pleasing to watch copulation. Fine young bodies. Let him do the donkey work, loosen her up..." He smiled his engaging smile. "Stimulating to a 90-year-old I am sure! Will help me along."
He wasn't going to shock her.
"Another drink?" he had asked.
"Well, yes please, um..."
"Justin, Justin J. Jeffreystone." He had held out his hand and she had shook it and then he turned to order from the barmen.
Frederika had watched the transaction. 'Loosen her up,' indeed! What a peculiar conversation. She was not quite sure why she had been talking to this man at all. Frederika had seen him in the hotel before but had only been vaguely aware of him. But now Sasha had gone home - gone home early to look after her mother - and Frederika was a bit on her own for the last few days of the holiday. Not necessarily a good idea to talk to strange men in hotel bars but that had partly been what Sasha and she had come to _____ for. Sun, sea and sex. If 'sex' was replaced by 'wine' then the holiday would have been absolutely as planned. There had been plenty enough of sun, sea and wine.
The 'sex' had been non-existent. The wine had flowed but not their cunnies or the semen. It had not been as they had planned or hoped. They had just not paired up. Neither had paired up. As Sasha had remarked, "Just one fit young man between the two of us would have done - at a pinch." They had laughed a lot at that. The idea of the three of them in a bedroom together. It might well have been quite like that had they 'paired up,' because Sasha and she had a twin room but fucking men on adjacent beds was not, again as Sasha had remarked, quite the same as fucking the same boy in the same bed together. It would be a bit intimate for the two of them. A bit more intimate than they had hoped for but, 'at a pinch'...
They had been so frustrated. They had talked on and on about sex and what might have been and Frederika was sure Sasha had masturbated after dark just as she had. The two of them on adjacent beds trying to be as quiet as anything. They had worked themselves up, just a bit!
"Pity we're not lesbians or bi." Sasha had remarked.
"That would have made it much easier," Frederika had laughed her reply.
It was the 'Shall we?" added by Sasha that had brought Frederika up sharp.
"Nooo. Don't be silly."
"Only joking."
But had she been? Frederika thought, perhaps, looking back, she might have accepted getting in the same bed as her friend, giggling of course but then a bit of mutual fingering. Nice perhaps to have had another's hand on her breasts or touching her 'down there.' At least another girl knew what to do and would take her time. But doing anything more? French kissing? Not really. Nipple sucking? Well Sasha did have wonderful breasts. Getting in the shower together and washing each other? Perhaps quite nice - really. Soixante-neuf? No! Mind you Sasha's tongue would know what to do - which most men did not. But having to do the same... sucking Sasha's and sticking her tongue up... No, no, no!
But had Sasha not gone home to her mother? The two of them had been getting very frustrated together. There had perhaps been a danger that they might have woken up one morning and regretted things or, perhaps worse, just started up again - cuddling and other 'things.' There had been anther three days in prospect without men... but Sasha had gone home.
What about in the dark of their room if Sasha had come over to her bed. What if she had said, 'pretend I'm a man.' Could she have done that with Sasha, gone through with the pretence? Not seen Sasha in the dark but felt her lips on her own, felt her tongue pushing through her lips like a man. Felt Sasha's fingers stroking her breast, her lips nuzzling her nipple and then her fingers and perhaps her lips on her sex. Like a man: only not.
Frederika was so desperate for sex. Particularly that evening.
She sipped her drink. "I want a penis." She said and then realised she had said it out loud.
The man was looking at her quizzically with a half-amused smile.
She had been talking to him all evening. Every other evening she had been out with Sasha. Had drunk in the bars and gone to pretty little restaurants down by the water. With Sasha gone she had not wanted to simply sit in her room with a bottle of red. Had thought the hotel bar 'safe' enough and when the man had started talking at the bar to her it had been fine. A 60 or so year old was hardly a threat to a girl, a pleasant interlude whilst she looked for the young men. But the young men had not come and she had found the conversation of the man strangely compelling and it had gone on. He had not led the conversation at all towards sex. It had only been her talk about her plans which had led her to ask what his own plans were and his ambitions. He had certainly been rather direct.
"Oh - did I really say that?"