When it comes someone’s personal standards, habits or predilections, I’ve always maintained a combination of to each their own and there’s someone out there for everyone philosophy. Love is love – it comes in all shapes, sizes, colors and combinations; and beauty is in the eye of the beholder (I try very hard not to judge, but admit I’m not perfect about this). Race has never mattered to me; and while not needing to justify or make excuses for my own preferences and standards, I’m open-minded enough to have at least met and dated a wide spectrum of body types (the only exception is a Little Person – the opportunity has never come up, though I’m open to it). We’ve all crossed paths with one or two couples and couldn’t wrap our minds around them – How did they meet? What on Earth do they have in common? What’s the “secret sauce” that makes their connection/relationship work? On the other hand, I’ve met couples who are perfect fits for each other in so many unique and delightful ways. I try to apply my beliefs to fetishes and lifestyles, as well. Some tantalize me to the point of experimentation (I’ll leave that to your imagination), while others evoke a resounding HELL NO NOT IN A MILLION YEARS I CAN NEVER UNSEE THAT response (again, you and your imagination). On the other hand, I’m sure many who harbor more complex, exotic or fringe sexual interests might look upon my own as vanilla-esque or milquetoast by comparison (though I prefer the more robust-sounding “meat and potatoes” as a descriptive for my interests). In all honesty, if someone heard about my preferences and turn-ons and described me as “extreme,” then they clearly lead a painfully mundane existence.

However, one aspect of dating and relationships that I sometimes struggle with is age – more accurately, does an age difference have to become an issue? My dating prospects and relationships typically involved women within five years of my own age, though there are a few exceptions and fantasies (e.g., A Chance Encounter with a Mature Woman and The Boss’ Wife). On the dating sites, it could be a reality check to look at an interesting profile, then realize I could be old enough to technically be the woman’s father (i.e., I would’ve been in high school at the time, but given my awkward and geeky status then, I can safely say I didn’t father any children then).

For me, this leads to one fundamental question – does age really matter? Are there “old soul” younger people who match their “young at heart” mature partners? Is there a large enough age difference (i.e., decades as opposed to years) where it’s more of a fetish, awkward/uncomfortable, or even somehow inappropriate? Or are all of these concerns nothing more than subjective suppositions due to social, moral, religious or philosophical beliefs and personal boundaries?

While I clearly resolved the notion of dating someone older, I tend to trip over the reverse of being with someone younger. This is about finding the shared experiences for building an emotional bond with someone in a different stage of their life, though it’s hard to ignore or resist the titillation for an attractive younger person. It’s the whole “Lolita complex” that bothers me. Personally, I’ve always found “naughty school girl,” “barely legal” or “daddy figure” fantasies as creepy – applying sexuality to childhood-based social constructs always disturbed me. By the same token, my skin crawls when reading news stories about high school teachers arrested for sleeping with their teenaged students. And yes, I’ve heard so many glibly declare “Age is just a number!” to which I say “Not if you end up in jail.”

 

While this subject doesn’t keep me awake at night, it does cross my mind when I’m visiting a porn site and the trending videos feature performers who look like they aren’t old enough to shave (above or below the waistline) or are entitled “HOT TEEN *LOVES* HER STEPDAD.” It’s also never been a real issue for me since all of my dating interests were closer to my age and/or old enough to vote and drink. While the MILF/cougar fetish has gained more acceptance (or at least popularity…though not without negative connotations from some), midlife-crisis-age men with women younger than their adult children is an old story. It’s not hard to jump to conclusions when you see a silver fox in an intimate conversation with a college-age woman at a bar. Years ago, my then girlfriend and I housesat for a doctor she worked for who lived in a well-to-do neighborhood complete with a pool near Georgetown. While hanging out there, everyone stared at one middle-age resident with his very attractive and much younger girlfriend/wife. When they left, one couple jokingly complained about whether she was his daughter.

Enough preamble, on with the story…

I read somewhere once that people tend to lose half their current friends every seven years, and my experience is there’s a small bit of truth to it. Remaining single as you push (…and then push past…) certain milestones (e.g., turning forty) means your social circles go through some seismic changes. Friends take on careers, become engaged, marry, start having families, etc. Coworkers and other “happy hour” team members move on to new jobs or opportunities. And yes, the bar scene grows very old soon enough. Fortunately, there are options when your social life turns a bite stale, and one I’ve successfully used are social networking sites aimed at group activities and interests. The nice thing about these sites is you can generally find something to do, even with a crowd of complete strangers. Eventually, you begin seeing a lot of the same faces at events or activities, and some become friends or at least connections on Facebook or LinkedIn.

I joined one particular group that eschewed the usual dinner, movie or happy hour nights, and did more adventuristic and outdoors activities – hikes, road trips, visiting historical sites, cave diving, river rafting, etc. Some of the regular attendees struck me as a little on the socially awkward side (given my background among geeks and nerds, there’s a pretty high bar set for what’s “strange and unusual”). However, the groups tended to be mostly harmless and/or good-natured “weekend warriors” looking for some fun. The usual routine involved meeting at the event location or a rally point for carpooling, then following up with drinks or dinner. This “adventure crowd” drew in a more-or-less mixed bag – all ages, races, careers, etc., and some became familiar and even welcomed acquaintances.

One person kept crossing my path – Nellie (not her real name). She radiated pure energy and loved life with eyes that shined and a beaming smile. She easily caught my eye with her petite build, dark brown eyes, jet black hair and beautiful chocolate-toned skin. Her slightly larger-than-proportionate breasts and a distractingly curved ass offset her tiny frame, and she always smelled of exotic florals. She looked way too young to me, where I sometimes caught myself wondering about her actual age (the site required members to be 18 or older, though the rough average age hovered at early- to mid-thirties). On the other hand, I saw her drink enough gin and tonics to assume her age as safely over 21. As we encountered one another at events, our regard evolved from the “nodded head/polite hi” to familiar faces, to harmlessly flirty. I didn’t put a whole lot of stock in our chance encounters since I figured she viewed me as just another “old guy” flirting with her.

Autumn arrived and I suffered with nothing super exciting to do over the coming weekend when an activity invite popped up – visiting a winery just an hour’s drive from my doorstep. I RSVP’d yes and that Saturday was clear and warm enough to enjoy being outside on a Fall afternoon. I joined a smaller crowd this time – about ten of us at a pair of tables. I knew a few of the attendees, and genuinely enjoyed the time outside, tasting wine and being social. About half an hour later, Nellie arrived and made her rounds saying hi to everyone. Her clothes matched for fall – a sweater dress that very little to the imagination regarding her figure and leather riding boots. She eventually made it around to me with a polite and warm hug. One of the other men (also around my age) offered her an empty seat next to him, but instead asked others to scooch over so she could sit next to me.

As the afternoon rolled on, the sun made way closer to the horizon and our crowd thinned out. Soon enough, our group dwindled down to just the event’s organizer, Nellie and myself. I knew the event organizer from other activities and he slyly excused himself as the “three’s a crowd” vibe grew evident.

Not ready to call it a day, I spotted a pair of empty Adirondack chairs in a grassy area and suggested moving to them, enjoy the soon-to-be-setting sun and polish off the last of the last of the wine. We talked and laughed until sunset – sharing stories about quirky relatives, time back at school (we went to rival colleges) and life in general. The trials and tribulations of dating came up, as well. I described my current “not really looking” status and she talked about her frustration with meeting too many men who still mentally lived in their frat houses or considered drinks and dinner a formality before dipping into their Costco-size case of prophylactic accessories. Somewhere in the conversation she mentioned being twenty-four and her “preference” for dating guys at least five to ten years older. Her degree in Business with a minor in Political Science led to a budding career at a government contractor showing her the ropes of marketing to and working with Federal clients. I picked up that while she appreciated the benefits of her job, it wasn’t quite her calling or dream. Her sharp and articulate personality appealed to me, she shared my liberal political ideals, and owned her fandom for classic rock.

As the conversation went on, I noticed her growing more than just comfortable with me. She sat at ease with me, and when she touched my arm while laughing or to grab my attention, her hand lingered longer than just casual. The chairs sat on a slight slope, and by chance, Nellie settled in one slightly “uphill” from mine. Her legs pointed in my direction, and she sometimes favored uncrossing them. Since her dress stopped mid-thigh, not peering up her dress or noticing her pink thong from my vantage point challenged me to no end. At first, I wondered if she didn’t realize it, but other times I honestly suspected her of being deliberate. Either way, I maintained eye contact with her because that’s what good men do.

The sun sinking behind the trees, the first chill of the Autumn evening drifted across the grounds, giving us our cue to leave. We hugged and traded emails and phone numbers, and heading East on Route 50, my phone pinged – she already sent me a friend request on Facebook.

The weekend passed and Monday involved the familiar daily grind. The Federal government’s fiscal year ends in September, so the last quarter of the calendar year (i.e., October, November and December) tends to be quiet. Most contractors use this time to catch up on in-house projects, build relationships with established and potential clients or teaming partners, or hunker down and take on long-term preparations for the next year. Trying to stay interested in some long-overdue housekeeping chores, I perked up when Nellie texted me. She bemoaned similar feelings about the same downtime at her job. At first, we enjoyed safe and tentative “How are you doing?” chit chats and joke swapping, but as the week moved on, the texts became more directed, suggestive and flirtier. The conversations included more probing questions about our pervious relationships (i.e., what worked or how they ended).

By that Thursday afternoon, we regularly traded texts and pictures. I nearly fell out of my chair in a staff meeting when she sent a picture of her in a bikini from a Florida trip. Before I could even respond, she followed up with a “Did you like that one?” text (complete with winking emoji). I replied that I did. That evening, she said she wanted to meet up again – just us, and I suggested dinner over the weekend. She agreed and sent another picture of her from the Florida trip in her magnificent swimsuit.

Nellie lived in Sterling, so we met at a nearby town center on Saturday evening roughly halfway between us. Despite it now being mid-October and the leaf colors starting their peak, the evening provided comfortably warm enough weather for sitting outside at one of the trendy eateries. Nellie took advantage of the warmer weather to wear a wrap dress that, similar to her sweater dress, showed off her exquisite shape. We talked and flirted over drinks and tapas, comparing notes about our group social networking site experiences, “bigger and better” dating stories, and more on music and traveling.

Her body language matched the playfulness of her text conversations. That dress fit her like a glove and offered a teasing view of cleavage comparable to the upskirting conundrum I dealt with at the winery. Her leg occasionally brushed up against mine under the table. Her hand rested on top of mine at every opportunity. Tired of sitting, we wandered around, playfully window shopping and people watching – any excuse to keep the date going. At some point she took my hand in hers after I tugged on her arm to point out something in the square. Her stance grew closer to me, and as the evening cooled down, welcomed my wrapping an arm around her.

At long last, I walked her out to her car where we hugged. As I pulled away, our eyes locked and the chemistry lit up like a thunderbolt. Instantly, we tilted our heads in unison and drew closer into a deep kiss. I could taste the mint from her gum as she slid her tongue around mine. Aroused by the moment, I tried keeping my hips from pressing against hers to avoid being provocative. But she pulled me in closer as our kissing intensified and more passionate.

As luck turned out, Nellie worked close to my office, so we met for lunch twice that following week. At one point, I caught a random people staring at us – some just acknowledging two people interested in each other, but at least one man maybe slightly older than myself giving me a scowl (Because of age difference, interracial couple, both? Jealousy? Disapproval?).

Up until that day, I never felt a need to question my decisions when it came to who I dated. I always maintained a few broad but defined boundaries – must be employed, must not smoke or use drugs, must be single (sadly, this really needs to be stated), must be disease free, must not be a racist or a Republican, etc. And so far, those requirements served me well. Intellectually, we were adults and doing nothing wrong, but I began wondering about if our age difference (and race) might be something to consider. I decided I was overthinking things – one week into whatever this was didn’t amount to “serious,” and our mutual interests and mindsets seemed to negate the almost two decades separating our ages. Being honest with myself, I asked the obvious question – did I want to pursue her only because of her being younger and so damn attractive? I resolved that I’ve met and been attracted to women closer to my age or older who I found just as irresistibly attractive, so why should this be any different?

We opted for hanging out Friday evening at a local bar hosting a popular eighties cover band that always delivered a great show. The social networking group made it an event, and we arrived to find a steadily-filling bar with some familiar faces. Nellie made her rounds, chatting with the usual suspects and shaking hands with new faces. I kept to chatting with the people I already knew. I couldn’t help noticing that as Nellie wandered around the crowd, the man who offered her a seat at the winery zeroed in on talking with her. Never the jealous type, I kept put with my familiar crowd, only sporadically looking her way in case she gave me the “RESCUE ME!” signal.

A few rounds later, the band was playing their hearts out. It was a good crowd that night, a good energy – the right mix of blowing off steam, loving eighties music and having a good time. Soon enough, Nellie and I hopped into the crowd, buzzed and attempting to dance. Well, she danced, I did the “white man’s bounce” to the beat. It being near Halloween, band members hurled spooky-themed and colored Mardi Gras beads into the crowd, and Nellie did a fair job of catching and hanging them around both of our necks. Another few drinks and sets, and our dancing evolved into more of a bump-and-grind with her in front, rubbing her ass against me.

As the band slowed things down a cover of Berlin’s Take My Breath Away, Nellie turned around, slung her arms over my shoulders, and made out with me as we tried swaying in tune. I loved how she felt – the smoothest and silkiest skin, soft lips and always warm to the touch. It felt like we melded together, almost wanting to press even closer.

It would still be a while before last call, but the looks on our faces said it was time to go.

“Are we headed to your place?” She asked hopping in my car.

“If you’re okay with that.”

She smiled, “I’m good. Let’s go.”

We tried holding hands as I drove down Route Seven, but a few questionable drivers made me rethink that and keep both hands on the wheel. Nellie settled for putting her hand on my thigh, moving it up and down – the edge of her hand ever so closely grazing by my crotch, but never quite touching it.

We kissed again after parking the car, then shared a case of the giggles while walking into my apartment building – barely walking up the stairs without fits of rum- or gin-induced laughs. The nervous energy between us thanks to our share anticipation of why we were there. Once inside, I gave her the token five-minute tour, including a brief introduction to my equally introverted cat, who spent most of the time cautiously patrolling instead of settling down next to one of us (in his defense, once he warmed up to you, good luck going anywhere or sitting without him following or curling up next to you). The tour ended back in the kitchen because Nellie wanted a drink of water, where we embraced and hungrily made out, this time not making any secret of my arousal as we pressed against each other without any pretense.

Her hands stroked up and down my back and ass as I did the same, feeling her bra strap underneath the vintage Duran Duran t-shirt. As I began necking her and playfully nibbling her ear, she slid one hand down my jeans and rubbed my cock.

“Can I tell you something?” She asked with a heavy breath.

I muffled something to the tune of “Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking about this since last weekend.”

The expression on my face said it all.

“Oh yeah, seriously.”

I felt a rush to my face, “I didn’t want to be rude – “

Nellie smiled again, “It was a compliment.”

My flush cooled off.

“One thing though,” she added.

“What’s that?”

“I think it’s waited long enough – it’s lonely and needs to meet my mouth.”

She yanked her hand out of my jeans, undid the fly and pulled them open. Nellie slid my briefs down enough until my cock fell out on its own, engorged and ready as she curled her fingers around it and kissed me again. She dropped down to her knees with dark, almond-shaped eyes looking back up at me with a smile. I loved her warm and gentle touch, taking great care with my cock. She cupped my balls in her hand as the tips of her fingers tapped and stroked along the base, then slowly and deliberately rolled her tongue around the tip in juicy circles. I closed my eyes and leaned against the kitchen counter.

Nellie took me into her mouth, warm and wet surrounding it as she almost leisurely slid back and forth. Her curly hair brushed against my lower stomach and waist each time she took me in. She preferred a more caring and loving style, as if the moment and the person super precious and needed to be handled with great care. I rested a hand on her cheek, feeling the bulge of my cock inside as it moved back and forth. She took it all in a few times, and I expected to hear her gag reflex, but she never uttered a sound beyond heavenly moans and enticing slurps. Nellie’s head swayed and moved with her back and forth motion, she enjoyed the moment as much as making sure I did. As I opened my eyes and looked down at her, she slowly slid me out of her mouth until the tip finally emerged, then gave me one of her sparkling smiles. I pulled her up to kiss her again, tasting a bit of myself on her as our tongues wrapped around each other, her hand still gently but firmly holding my cock.

I guided her back to the bedroom, ending with her standing in front of me at the side of the bed, back to me. I started necking her while wrapping my arms around her waist, her perfume was everywhere and t-shirt perfectly tucked into her torn jeans. My forearms brushed against her breasts. She turned her head, opened her mouth and drew out her tongue for me to take into my mouth, and I slid my hands to her chest, cupping both of her breasts and feeling the lacey bra and firm nipples underneath. Nellie undid her jeans and slid them down until she could kick them off, then reached behind and pulled mine down. I finished taking my jeans off and drew my hands under her t-shirt as she pulled it up and over her head so I could feel her breasts again. My cock pressed hard against her panties as I kissed the back of her neck and across her shoulders.

She gently swayed her hips side to side, making my cock sway with them against the middle of her ass. I leaned back and unhooked her bra, it then fell off and down to the floor. I turned her around and studied her – the curve of her breasts, the darkness of her nipples, the few moles betraying her otherwise flawless and warm brown complexion, and the small heart tattoo just above her right hip.

She was amazing just to look at.

Nellie sat down on the edge of the bed, put her hand on my hip and tugged for me to move closer, but I stopped her. My hands on her hips, I pushed her further up on the bed and she laid down with her legs hanging off the bed. I kneeled down on and kissed the inside of her thigh, making my way up to her matching black lace thong. Nellie closed her eyes and moaned as I gingerly lifted and tugged off the thong, revealing a manicured black, curly-haired mound. I could smell the wetness between her legs and see the sliver of pink. With long, slow passes, I drew my tongue across her pussy, exploring her lips, lavishing her clit and dipping it inside of her. My hands played with her breasts, either fully holding and caressing them or fingering her nipples. Nellie sucked on a couple of her fingers as she continued moaning, then wrapped her legs over my shoulders as I increased my licking and exploring her.

As I focused on her clit, I slid two fingers inside of her to a surprised but pleased gasp, and gently probed inside until I felt the magical rough patch of her G-spot. I felt her stomach tense as whatever sensations I sparked in her raced up and down her body. I didn’t think it possible, but her pussy felt even more wet as I played with the magical spot inside her. She squirmed and arched her back as she came, then I crawled up and onto the bed, kissing my way up her stomach, sucking on her nipples and finally kissing her again. She went out of her way to lick all around my lips, tasting herself on me. We laid next to each other, naked and making out, my hands trading off between her breasts and pussy, her stroking my cock – even fingering the tip and playing with the pre-cum.

We explored each other for who knows how long, but the look in her eyes beaconed for the main event. I no sooner wrapped on a condom as Nellie repositioned herself into a more comfortable spot, legs up and spread apart. Her eyes warmly inviting and half open as she rubbed and fingered herself.

I mounted myself in front of her and slowly slid in. Nellie closed her eyes and moaned, still rubbing her clit as I pressed my hips into her. I took my time going in and out, the first few pumps meant to be almost agonizingly slow to wind up her obvious anticipation. Her pussy felt as if it grabbed onto my cock, demanding more and faster, but I kept the gradual pace. As I reached “medium” speed, Nellie raised her legs up and against my chest, so I could go faster and deeper. Once I at “full speed,” she groaned and gasped out loud, her beautiful breasts bouncing back and forth as I caressed and held them. I could feel her wetness every time my hips pounded into her, glistening my own groomed public area. Without missing a beat, she dropped her legs down and quickly rolled over so I could enter from behind, now grabbing her hips to go in and out faster and with more force. She yelped with each pump; sheets, blankets and comforter twisted and gnarled in her tightly gripped hands. She yelled loudly as I came inside her, sparking off her orgasm in return. I held my hips tight against her until sure the last waves of my orgasm ended inside of her. When I pulled out, she eagerly spun around, studying and even touching and cradling the engorged condom, full of my warm emanation. She rolled it in her hand like a ball of clay, the condom slowing working its way off of me as she curiously squeezed and slid it between her fingers.

I kissed her and went to the bathroom to clean up.

We cuddled under the covers for a while, mostly holding and feeling one another, sometimes comparing notes about past experiences with others. Nellie admitted that she hadn’t been with many other men and none with as big an age difference as mine.

“Why older men?” I asked.

“They’re more centered and sure of themselves,” Nellie replied. “My first time was my high school boyfriend – his first, too, and couldn’t find the right hole to save his life…and he came ten seconds later. In college, I met a grad student eight years older and a lot more fun to sleep with. I guess ever since then I knew I prefer my men a little older.”

“Or more than a ‘little.’”

I couldn’t tell, but I’d swear Nellie blushed at that comment.

She smiled, “Y’know, I’ve been eyeing you for a little while, seeing if you’d show up at events.”

“Oh, c’mon…”

“No really. You’re so damn cute, but that other guy – the one at the winery and bar? He’s cruising for a restraining order.”

“I know who he is – one of the regulars. He’s a real estate agent and acts like he’s a ladies’ man. I think I remember him saying he has a daughter in college.”

Nellie nodded, “Oh my God! He made a pass at me saying that I reminded him of her…” I could almost feel her skin crawl. “NEVER, say that to a woman, EVER.”

We laughed then kissed more. Shortly I rose up to attention again and she grabbed it, wagging it back and forth like and dog’s tail and giggled. As I put on a fresh condom, Nellie jumped out of bed, fingering herself with one hand and her breasts with the other as I suited up for round two. She eagerly spun around and planted both hands on the bed, hips back as she bent over, two glistening fingers sliding in and out.

I kneeled behind her, pulled her hand away and slid my tongue in, then lapped at her warm, wet mound. I stood up and pumped myself inside, one hand on her hip and the other on her shoulder. This time I began hard and fast, instantly drawing out pleased groans and satisfyingly wet smacks with each pump into her. I reached around with both hands and hungrily grabbed her breasts, loving the feel of her nipples between my fingers. Her voice told me that her next orgasm neared, and she spun around and threw herself on the bed, her hips at the edge. I pulled her legs up and thrust myself inside her hard. I leaned in, her legs the only thing between us. She yelled as she climaxed, followed by my own smaller but cathartic and definite finish.

Sometime in the early morning hours we fell asleep. When we awoke, Nellie needed to go due to committed family plans that weekend, so after a quickie breakfast of toast and coffee, a shower and a ride back to her place, we went our separate ways for the weekend. I didn’t expect to hear from her until Monday at the earliest, but was pleasantly surprised when my phone pinged and vibrated from her texts later that day. While at the grocery store, she sent a picture of her naked, posing in front of a full-length mirror. I’m still not sure if the older woman behind me in the checkout line saw the picture.

The following weekend, the social group scheduled a hike at Great Falls. It being early November, the unusually warm weather stuck around, and Nellie said wanted to go. She opted for her picking me up this time and we joined a dozen group members for walking the trail from River Bend Park down river to main Great Falls Park. Nellie marched ahead of me for most of the hike, her black running tights providing a fantastic view of her ass the whole way. We agreed to keep the PDA to a minimum since previous experience with these online social groups taught that affectionate couples sometimes irked the more single members (these social group sites insist that they aren’t for dating, but pairing up organically happens from time to time). We tended to sit next to each other at breaks and broke off at one point to look around and take pictures at the overlook above the rapids. I wondered if anyone made the connection between us, and I caught myself musing how we looked together – her young and fresh and me a forty-something with greying temples to betray my overwise boyish looks. Along the hike, one guy around Nellie’s age who clearly marinated in Axe Body Spray spent his time chatting it up with anyone with breasts. I noticed him eyeing Nellie a few times, but hadn’t made his way “down the line” to her until we stopped halfway down the trail.

Nellie sat next to me downing some water while I compared notes about the wines we tried at the winery with another group member who attended that event, as well. The college guy smiled and swaggered up to Nellie, laying down an opening line about how she reminded him of a black actress he liked. She politely laughed and blew off the line, but chatted him up a little, listing movies the actress was in but that he clearly hadn’t seen.

“Do you know what they used to call me in college?”

I finished my wine conversation and turned back to see what was going on with Nellie. I have to give kudos to him for going down swinging.

Nellie shook her head, “Oh no, what did they call you?”

He pumped up a little. “Blaze…”

“Blaze?” Nellie asked.

I couldn’t help chuckling and chimed in, “Spent a lot of time at the old frat house basement toking up?”

Blaze seemed unfazed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Okay, hotrod,” Nellie said as she stifled her polite laughter and planted a hand on my knee. “That’s a fun story, good luck with it.”

He took the hint and moved on, but not without a double take back at me – an expression screaming ”Really, you’re with HIM?. The last we saw of “Blaze,” he appeared to be in hot pursuit of two girls he spotted at the visitor center. He didn’t join the group on the way back and I don’t recall ever seeing him at another event since. We made it back to River Bend Park with about an hour before sunset. Some of the group discussed drinks and food after, but Nellie and I elected to pass. As sunset painted the river, trees and rocks in a warm amber light, Nellie took a few more pics, then we hopped in the car and back to my place by way of the grocery store for an improvised steak dinner and a couple bottles of wine.

With a warm meal and most of the wine consumed, we took turns channel surfing while piled on the couch. Not all that impressed with the TV pickings, Nellie switched to On Demand and somehow found episodes of HBO’s Real Sex. We watched one about a couple who built and sold Real Dolls, and began watching another involving a woman who taught blow job classes. Nellie seemed to take interest in the latter episode.

“What is it?” I asked.

Nellie shook her head. “Nothing, just picking up a few tips.”

“You definitely don’t need any.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Seriously,” I said with complete honesty, “Yours are AMAZING.”

Our hands wandering across and underneath our clothes. I brushed my hand down between her legs. I felt her wetness through her panties and tights.

“That’s also why I like older men,” Nellie said. “You knew what you were doing going down on me.”

I shifted to the floor in front of her, pulling off her tights and panties together then spreading her legs apart while still sitting on the couch. I hiked her legs over my shoulders and dove in, lavishing my tongue all around and inside of her warm mound. Kissing around it, flicking her clit and lips, taking slow, leisurely passes with all of my tongue. My nose brushed through her dark hair. I slid my hands up her sweatshirt and played with her breasts as I kept licking and exploring between her legs. I pulled off my running pants and briefs, stroking myself as I ate her out and Nellie yanked off the rest of her clothes. She tugged at me to stand up and as I did, grabbed my cock and licked it from base to tip with her pink, wet tongue. She played with a graceful manner – a work of living art as she lovingly caressed and tasted all of it.

She moved to take it into her mouth when I stopped her. Urging her up so I could lay down on the couch, she laid on top for me to continue tonguing her as she sucked on me – a perfect sixty-nine. The Real Sex episode long since ended as we licked and sucked on one another. I traced my fingertips in and out of her while she stroked me and gently caressed my cock. I felt her take me all the way in until almost triggering her gag reflex. She stopped as I drew an orgasm from her, sending waves racing up and down her body. Afterward, she kneeled next to the couch and deep throated me until I felt my own orgasm ready to erupt. Taking the cue, she laid down on the floor, stroking me over her until a I came all over her stomach and breasts. She tentatively slid one drop around with her fingertip and smiled as I rubbed my cock on her stomach in the warm cum, spreading it around.

We jumped in the shower to mainly clean her up, but the alcohol and warm water inspired us to stay in the shower longer than planned. Wet hands glided over each other’s skin, my hard cock sliding against the middle of her ass, my hands moving from her breasts to between her legs. I loved the feel of her wet pussy hair as I ran my fingers through it, then rubbing her clit and sliding my fingers in and out of her until she came in the shower – her voice echoing off the walls. That alone convinced me to run to the bedroom, get a condom and get back in to finish what we started in there.

   

We enjoyed each other’s company throughout the holidays – sometimes going to social group events, other times just the two of us or out with our respective friends. Admittedly, I felt a little out of place in her crowd of twenty- and thirty-somethings, but my crowd in their thirties and very early forties didn’t phase her. I run with a fairly open-minded group, and if any of them felt concerned with my dating a younger woman, I never heard a peep about it. Nellie told me once that one of her not-as-close friends made a catty comment about “dating a daddy,” but said she blew off the comment as it being that person’s problem and not hers. That was the only time someone from her crowd knowingly said anything negative about our relationship, and considering that I never met the person, I didn’t pay much attention to it.

I noticed as the holidays passed that her mood changed a bit – almost a frustration in her. She admitted that she felt very little enjoyment with her job – she didn’t want her life to amount to just “doing time at a corporation.” Nellie explained that she felt that way almost from the moment she began her job. In college, her dream job amounted to joining a developing country organization and traveling the world. I spotted her reading up on different international charities and development groups, and I could tell she wanted to see still wanted to travel the world and maybe help make it better. After New Year’s, she told me that she applied with one of those organizations and they lined up some interviews with her.

We dated long enough to have feelings for one another, but I knew the signs when two people are heading in different directions. I didn’t blame her, she wanted the adventure that someone without a lot of ties or roots could enjoy, and my mindset aimed for settling down and building a life and family. Her interviews went well, and by Valentine’s Day, her routine included orientation classes for traveling overseas to Asia. On the First Day of Spring she posted pictures on Facebook from the other side of the world.

We kept in touch for a while, but the emails and texts became further and further apart as time went on. Later that year, a serious relationship took up my time and attention, and Nellie’s work on a healthy survey in India and East Africa kept her busy. I hear from her once or twice a year, sharing her adventures and people she’s met. She hasn’t settled down with anyone yet, but I know she’ll make someone very happy someday.