A little history...
When I was 18, I saw an older man, must have been in his forties, fuck my sister, who was nineteen. I came home from school early one day and there they were, in the living room, going at it.
Ellen, that was her name, made me promise not to tell our parents. I promised and we never spoke of it again. I did however, think about it, on and off during the following years, if you know what I mean.
I celebrated my forty-second birthday about two weeks ago and still occasionally think about that. I've never married, but I have had many girlfriends. Some were my age, but mostly they've been younger than me. For some unknown reason, younger women seem to like me. I'm not particularly good looking. I'm balding and I have what can best be described as a mildly brash personality. I'm kind of loud and my mouth tends to have a mind of its own. Or, rather, it tends to speak my mind without going through any sort of filters.
Why did I tell you about that afternoon in my younger years? Probably because it has been a bit of a sexual obsession of mine since then, if you haven't figured that out yet. The idea of an older man having sex with a younger woman turns me the fuck on, and now I finally am that older man.
Depending on your own age while reading this, at forty-two I either reached "older man" status a long time ago, or I'm not even close to being "older". That doesn't really matter. What mattesrs is how I feel about it and I feel that I have now reached the age that I always imagined that hairy dude who was fucking my sister was.
In my mind, that means that I now need to fuck as many eighteen year old women as possible. To be truthful, though, while eighteen would be nice, at this point in my life, anyone between eighteen and about thirty will do.
My story...
This brings me to the beginning of my story, which happened last weekend. I'm a disc jockey at a rock radio station and once a month I work weekends. This was one of those weekends, and by the time I got out of the station, I was exhausted. I just wanted to go home, but a buddy of mine called and said he really needed to talk. He asked if we could hit the Lion and Whistle pub downtown, a place we'd been in the past, but not recently.
This particular friend has had a history of relationship problems and he's been there when I've needed him, so I agreed.
I walked in and looked around. He wasn't there yet, so I ordered myself a Jameson. That was usually my starting drink. I don't have many of them, but I like to start with a whiskey.
By the time I had my second Ketel One (vodka always followed Whiskey), I had an inkling that perhaps he wasn't going to be showing up and I started to get a little ticked off. That was when I noticed her. It was hard not to.
She looked to be about eighteen or nineteen and she had bright pink and purple hair. She was alone, and my mind instantly went places the minds of forty-two year old men shouldn't go when they see a girl of that age. Why was she alone, I thought? Was she, too, waiting for someone?
She noticed me at that point. Our eyes met and we gave each other a polite smile and nod. I felt a little awkward so I turned away and ordered another vodka. I downed it pretty quickly and looked back. Her eyes were still on me, as if they had never left.
By vodka number four, I had gathered up the courage to walk over.
"You seem to be alone", I yelled over the music. "Are you waiting for someone?"
"I was, but my bitch girlfriend seems to be taking her sweet, fucking time," she said. "We were supposed to meet at 8:30".
I looked at my phone. It was 9:12.
"Same here," I yelled. "A buddy of mine was supposed to meet me here at about 8:00."
Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold started playing and her head began bobbing when the drums fired up.
"Like this song?", I asked. It was a couple of years old, but was in our current rotation at the station. In fact, I'm pretty sure that on weeknights, when the deejay is off, this bar has our radio station on.
"Fuck, yeah"
"Me too. You a metal head?"
