SOME BACKGROUND: This story is based on what I expected to be a promising, but turned into an incredibly confusing date/hook up. The general story leading up to our getting intimate is more or less based in reality, but overall finer details are a product of artistic license. For whatever reason, she had a sudden change of heart in the middle of making out and ended the evening short, resulting in me going home with the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever experienced. To this day, I still don’t know why she hit the brakes. Her only response was a cryptic “I didn’t feel the moment anymore” and nothing else. The rest of this story is a vicarious exercise in “what if…?” Enjoy!

WRITER’S NOTE: I planned on this story being a one-shot tale. However, part way through, I remembered other details about the date that were difficult to fit into this narrative, and I had so much fun writing it that I began developing ideas for a second part. Stay tuned.

Saturday night, Memorial Day weekend.
Traffic was light, but the headlights and taillights from the other cars were wiggling spots through the rain covered windshield and accompanying wiper tracks. This strangely reassured me that I wasn’t the only idiot driving through wind, torrential downpours, and godlike thunder and lightning. The tires slid a little once or twice and tried to remember my drivers ed basics to avoid hydroplaning across the interstate. Cell coverage was spotty at best out this way, so I hoped and prayed I didn’t need to call 911.

A few days earlier…

Work kept me pretty busy through Spring, and when it was that bad, my personal life typically fell by the wayside, where even RSVPing with friends for happy hours or movie nights was “tentative” at best. During those times, most of my nighttime plans amounted to the gym, dinner, and crashing. Not surprisingly, Memorial Day weekend crept up on me as almost a surprise, and that’s when work finally eased up. A few days before the official beginning of Summer, I reached out to a few of my usual suspects, but everyone had committed plans or already skipped town.
An evening after work, surrendered to the reality that I was looking at three days of entertaining myself, I hopped online to see if there was anything remotely interesting to do. The National Harbor was hosting a bourbon and BBQ festival, but I wasn’t a big eater and didn’t like the idea of getting drunk in the heat. One or two places had carnivals, but I wasn’t ten years old or raising one. The movie theaters had nothing of interest. The weekend was looking bleak.
I switched gears and checked the few dating sites where I posted profiles. I hadn’t checked them in a while, and the messages and alerts were nothing but spam and fake profiles. Eventually, flipping through the sites’ profiles and thirsty member filled chat rooms were starting to make watching anything on TV a better use of my time, so I started flipping channels.
Halfway through an old Star Trek episode, I checked my email on my phone, and had a message from one of the dating sites.
Booting up my computer, I swiped away the screensaver and rubbing the beginnings of sleepiness from my eyes, I checked it out. A simple “Hi, how are you?” email from a user who identified as “Female, 48.” At 34, I had hopes of eventually starting a family, so I was a little hesitant to respond, but curiosity got the better of me. Her profile was a bare, a short “I love movies, going out, travel, music” description that anyone could’ve written. The lone profile picture was from a distance on a hike, complete with a big shady hat and sunglasses that made it impossible to make out her face.
I was experienced enough to trust my instincts on whether or not I was looking at a fake ad or being catfished, but my spidey sense told me this was a real person. I fired back a simple “I’m fine, how are you?” response and called it a night.
The next morning, I was working in the office and without easy access to my home computer, though checking my email on my phone showed that the woman had responded to me. By lunchtime, curiosity won over self-control. I caved and installed the dating site’s app on my phone to read her message.
With nothing but meetings-that-could’ve-been-emails on my schedule, my afternoon was spent tuning out coworkers as I traded messages with this woman. Her name was Maggie, divorced with no children, an IT help desk supervisor, and she did love movies, going out, travel, and music. I kept the conversation neutral; still on the fence about whether or not she was real or a scammer, but her responses were thoughtful and had enough details, without anything too awkward to give me red flags.
Once home from work via the gym, showered, fed, and relaxed on the couch with the TV, another dating site alert – a message from Maggie. I hadn’t heard from her since before I left work, I figure she had her own personal commitments to manage. I stayed up past midnight trading messages with her. When I politely told her I was signing off for the night, I waited a few extra minutes for her response, but it was quiet. I called it a night.

Now Thursday morning and working from home, things were quiet which mean keeping my work laptop on to check emails while catching up on neglected house chores. I was more than a little surprised when I saw an alert telling me I had another message from Maggie. Once set up for work and coffee in hand, I logged into the dating app. Maggie apologized for dropping off as she had fallen asleep, and suggested a more direct way to talk. Still not sure what to make of all this, I sent her my direct Gmail address and suggested we could IM there if she had it. A few minutes later, my computer dinged as a new IM popped up from her on my Gmail page.
The IMs made for a less awkward and natural conversation. As the morning passed by, we shared more details regarding ourselves and our lives. She divorced two years ago – amicable and no kids to fight over. Since then, she dated sparingly because she’d been out of the game for almost fifteen years, and the few people she had talked to or met weren’t thrilling her. I didn’t bring up the age difference with us, but she hinted (intentionally or not, I don’t know) that she liked keeping her options “open” regarding who she met. Around lunchtime, I took a chance and asked if she wanted to talk on the phone (I was tired of the computer screens). She agreed and I IMed her my number.
Moments later…
“Hi, there!” I answered.
“Hi, how are you?”
Her voice was sweet and bright, with just the trace of a mature voice’s delicate, sandy coarseness.
We exchanged a few pleasantries and continued getting to know one another as I cleaned up the place, ran laundry, and jiggled my work laptop’s mouse to keep it active. As we talked, she was engaging, going on about the Europe trips she took back in college, and then later Asia with her ex. She had a taste for classic rock that worked for me, and the only place we didn’t match was she was a dedicated real crime and documentaries fan, while I was more comedies and sci fi.
Eventually, we began touching on our personal lives. She asked why I was single and looking, responding that I was more “single” than “looking” for the moment. Maggie shared again that she wasn’t sure about the whole online dating experience, but she got the house in the divorce and lived on the outskirts of Front Royal – needless to say, prospects were slim for her with the local scene.
Time to take another chance…
“So, why – what…sorry…”
“Why did I contact a younger man?” she completed my question.
“I – didn’t want to be blunt.”
Maggie chuckled. “It’s fine. I’ve been keeping it over 40 – y’know, age appropriate? A few younger men contacted me, but you can guess what they want.”
But what in mine got your attention?
Maggie paused again, “Everyone likes a pretty face or six pack abs, it isn’t something specific – a shared interest, a quote, a point of view…anything really. You though, you said something about family comes first. My parents are getting older, and so many don’t want drama or baggage.”
“As if being single means we don’t have other commitments.” I added.
“Or are just looking to fuck their brains out.” Maggie said bluntly.
“That’s fair, honest – means you don’t like people lying or playing games.”
“Exactly!”
I looked at the time and realized she and I had been talking for over two hours.
“Hey,” I asked, “I’m not keeping you any work, am I? You said you work a help desk.”
“Oh, no. I manage an IT help desk team. They take the calls, I monitor them and make sure they aren’t web surfing when they should be on help tickets. Why?”
“I just realized we’ve been talking for a long time.”
Maggie giggled. Oh God, what a great laugh. “Oh wow, yeah! You don’t know what a perk a real conversation is. I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”
I shook my head, again…I’m on the phone! “No. I’ve been doing chores and checking my work emails.”
“A man who cleans up after himself, nice.”
I smiled. “I’ve been so busy lately that the chores got shoved to the back burner. No one else to impress around here.”
Maggie laughed again. “No ‘friend with benefits’…hook ups?”
“I – no. Not these days.”
“Why not?” she asked.
I thought for a moment.
“Hello?”
“I’m here. Again, work has been pretty tough, and I’m trying to leave the one-night stand days behind…‘try’ is the keyword there.”
“Hmmm…all work and no play…” Maggie said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Yeah, been a little dull lately.”
I heard something ping in the background from her end.
“Hang on a sec,” Maggie said as I heard her typing on a keyboard. “Ugh, damn it.”
“What’s up?”
There was typing through a paused silence. “I need to call one of my team. He’s having an issue with a customer and needs me to step in. Let me take care of this – I’ll IM you later on.”
And with that, she hung up. After wrapping up chores, it was closer to 4:00 PM, and I finally took a shower and shut down my work laptop, knowing that everyone was probably checked out for the weekend, even if there was only one more work day left. I thought a little bit about Maggie, even though I signed onto the dating site to see if anything had come up. One “wink” from a painfully obvious fake profile, but no real activity. So, I hopped off and shut down my own computer.
After a lean meal of whatever leftovers were sitting in the back of my fridge, I settled down on the couch flipping channels with a glass of wine in hand. A little closer to 8:00 my phone buzzed. Maggie texted me asking if she could call. Thankfully, I had charged up my phone again, so I replied yes.
“Problem solved?” I asked
“Ugh, that was the rush before the weekend I didn’t need!” She said, her voice a bit coarser than earlier. “Two hours talking to execs with MBAs and PhDs who can’t their own asses, let alone a power switch.”
“Not fun.”
“No.” Maggie let out a long, slow sigh. I don’t know why, but the sound of it sent an immediate rush of warmth down through me. “It’s over now. One more day and off duty for the long weekend.”
“You don’t work weekends? I mean, is it 24 hours?”
Maggie laughed a little. “We have after hours people – they only call me if it’s a dire emergency.”
“Cool,” I said.
“Can, I ask you something?” She asked, the first hint of insecurity from her.
“Sure.”
“How often to you check out the dating sites?”
“Not often,” I replied. “I look at new profiles maybe twice a week. Otherwise, I only go on if I get some kind of alert – like a message. Why?”
“I was wondering…okay, I peeked earlier. You were on a little while ago.”
I smiled a little at that. “I got an alert, a fake profile wink.”
“How do you know it was fake?”
“I recognized the picture from a porn site.” I answered without any hesitation.
FUCK ME, WHY – WHY DID I ADMIT THAT?!
“Oh!” Was her playfully surprised response.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK ME.
“Who was she?” she asked, sounding a little…sly?
I sighed, might as well… “She? Oh, porn star…Alexis Fawxx.”
“Oh – OH! I like her!” Maggie said.
FUCK?
“Really?”
“Women watch porn, too, y’know.” Maggie said with that wonderful giggle. “Her, Brandi Love, Persia Monir – they’re only the ‘MILF’ ones I remember.”
I think my jaw had hit the floor.”
“Hello?” she asked.
“Sorry – not what I thought would come up.”
Maggie laughed, “Please! I know men and what they do when no one’s around. Every time I walked in on my ex playing with himself…”
“I don’t need to know,” I joked.
“Ha! The cat’s out of the bag – what do you watch?”
I flushed even though she couldn’t see me. “Erm…threesomes, mature/MILF types with younger partners.”
“That’s it?” she asked.
“Pretty much…a little interracial stuff.”
“I watch some of that. Sometimes shemales – kind of a weird curiosity and fascination.” She admitted. “Some of those do it for me.” Her voice went a little deeper. “Sorry, TMI?”
“No,” I said, “Shemales? I’ve seen one or two of those, but…not my thing.”
There was a slight pause and sound like…shifting around, maybe? I couldn’t tell. For a moment, I couldn’t hear anything. I wondered what was happening on the other end of the line, my imagination not helping.

“Tell me,” she said, sounding more relaxed, “Have you done any of those things you watch?”
Didn’t expect this. The truth shall set me free.
“I’ve met with a few older women.”
“Oh?” Maggie perked up at that.
Again, a little flushed. “I was twenty-eight and posted on Craigslist looking for some fun, but was getting the usual spam emails and horny gay men. One email popped up that looked real. We traded pics and she told me up front that she was 42. I wasn’t going to meet her, but…okay, she looked good in her pictures and she seemed…eager.”
“Go on,” Maggie’s voice still a little deep.
“We met for coffee to break the ice. Surprisingly she was just like her pictures.” More moving around on her end? “We talked for over an hour with no idea what she was thinking.”
“Mm hmm,” was Maggie’s response.
“I said something funny and when she laughed putting her hand on my knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. When I looked up from her hand and into her eyes, she had…well, that look.”
“Look?”
Was I still flushed? “The ‘I’m ready when you are’ look.”
“Nice…” Maggie said, slowly.
I let out a nervous sigh, surprised I was sharing this with her. “I was just out of grad school and still living with my parents and she said she didn’t want her neighbors gossiping. So, we went down the street to a hotel…and…made an afternoon of it.”
“Wow…”
“It was amazing! I had never been with anyone like her. She was giving me advice like a teacher or mentor. Things I thought I knew about she was guiding me to be better or new things.”
Maggie was quiet for a moment. “That…sounds wonderful,” she said, sounding even more relaxed. “Was your first time with an older woman?”
“Yeah, I’ve only met a few others. And no – I didn’t sleep with all of them.”
“I envy them,” Maggie said. “My ex-husband and I are the same age. Before that, I slept with one man ten years older, but never anyone younger.”
Now I perked up. “Really?”
I’d swear I could hear her blush. “I’ve had a few dates since the divorce. I’m here in the boonies, so it’s either rednecks or relocated suburbanite families. I’ve had offers from a few of the married men near me, but I don’t do that.”
“S0, slim pickings out there.”
“Right,” she said. “My first post-divorce date was with one of my ex’s coworkers. He always had a thing for me.”
“What happened?” I asked.
Maggie sighed. “It was awful. All he could talk about was my ex and their work or golf. I hate golf! Never ever date someone who knows your exes. I tried some social networking and joined a few groups, but wasn’t feeling it with anyone. I didn’t try the dating apps until back before Christmas, and God, I was getting so many emails from twenty-year-olds!”
I laughed a little. “Mature women are popular!”
“Seriously! But no, didn’t go that route. Even the men closer to my age weren’t any better.”
“Everyone just wants to get laid.”
“Yes.”
I looked over at the TV and cable box. Maybe a little longer on the phone, but then I heard Maggie yawn.
“Sorry,” she said stifling the last of her yawn. “I think I’m done.”
“OK,” I replied, “I’m around tomorrow, so we can chat then.”
“Sounds good,” she said with another yawn.
I crawled into bed and reviewed our conversation in my head. I was surprised, confused, and a little turned on. Thing is, I couldn’t help wondering what Maggie was doing while we were talking. I tried not to read much more into it, but my imagination was getting the better of me. Hell, I half expected her to ghost me after that talk.

Friday was quiet. PAINFULLY quiet. Time-sensitive projects were already wrapped up so everyone could enjoy the extra time off, and ongoing tasks sat in limbo. I found myself bored to tears that morning, and could count the number of emails I received from actual human beings on one hand. It was so slow that by late morning I had ran out to my gym, hit the grocery store for a few things, and returned home without anything coming up.
Early afternoon moved at a snail’s pace, and even the dating sites were dull. I did check my phone just to see if I missed any calls or texts from Maggie, but reasons for her silence bounded between her work or my unfounded theory that our stimulating conversations were the most I could expect. I was idly going through Craigslist’s “Rants and Raves” section for some fun reading when my phone pinged. Maggie texted me asking if I was free to talk.

“Hey!” she answered, voice bright and energetic. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Everyone’s checked out, so it’s a dull day.”
“Just sitting around?” she asked.
“No! I’ve already been to the gym and did groceries. What about you?”
“Ugh,” Maggie groaned, “It’s been last-minute emergencies all day! I’ve been firing back-and-forth emails or been on the phone since I got up! I’m just now eating breakfast.”
It was almost 3:00 PM.
“Yikes,” I said. “At least there’s extra time this weekend to unwind. Get some sleep.”
“Thank God,” she replied. “I’m beat today, and I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Why’s that?”
A very pregnant pause.
“I was thinking about…a few things…that we talked about.”
I laughed a little, “I guess that got a little interesting.”
“Yeah, a bit.” She said. Another pause. “It…it got me thinking.”
Oh?
“Are you…any big plans for the weekend?” she asked, a touch of timidity in her voice.
“No, well – a friend invited me to another of his friend’s for a cookout, but I’ll barely know anyone there, so I’m not feeling it. You?”
“No…” another pause from Maggie. “Would you like to meet?”
I thought for a moment. “Yes, sure…did you – ?”
“No plan, but one of us will probably need to do a little driving. Except for some wineries, I don’t know what’s out there between Front Royal and the civilization you’re in.”
“I’ll come out to your neck of the woods,” I said. “Pick a place and we can do drinks or dinner.”
“Sounds great!” I heard a ping in the background. “Ugh, more tickets coming in! I’ll text you later on.”
The rest of the afternoon was quiet and I shut down my work computer around 3:30. The holiday weekend had begun and everyone was gone. A few friends texted me or called, and I let the one know I wasn’t going to the cookout with him.
By early evening I was relaxing with some wine at an outdoor bar connected to one of the big chain restaurants and checking my phone periodically to see if I missed anything from Maggie. She finally texted me, apologizing. She was still dealing with a downed network crisis, so she couldn’t talk on the phone, but was texting on and off. Some of it was play-by-play details about the people she was dealing with. Some of it flirty. And some of it us trading ideas about where to meet. I searched online and found a winery not too far from Front Royal that was open until 8:00 PM on Saturdays.

We kept texting on and off until after I returned home. She offered to call, but it was late and I wanted to get in bed. As I drifted off, I heard my phone buzz one more time. Maggie texted me and I looked. It was a picture of her in a tight swimsuit with a wink emoji. The suit didn’t didn’t leave much to the imagination.

I slept in and only got up because I needed to hit the bathroom and wanted something in my stomach. Over coffee and peanut butter and jam toast, I texted her back a smiley face in response to her picture. We traded a few flirty and friendly texts as I got a few lingering chores out of the way and ran some errands. It was hot and steamy – typical for the DC area, and made one happy that we lived in the day and age of air conditioning.
My phone’s weather app said the evening was looking a little dire. Nothing but thunderstorms. In fact, the first edge of grey clouds was rising up from the West already. I texted Maggie and asked what she thought. Front Royal was west of me, and she said it was already cloudy where she was. The winery had indoor and outdoor seating, so we agreed to move forward – meeting at 6:00 PM.
Time to get ready. I didn’t know what to expect, so I put a little more TLC into my grooming than the usual shave and shower. Made sure my skin was clear and hair just right. I tended to trim hair down below as a matter of habit, and the last time wasn’t too long ago. I forced myself to not go there mentally, but I wanted to be prepared for anything. I wore a good pair of jeans and one my dressier t-shirts.
I hit the road around 5:00 PM, seeing the first few drops of rain hitting my windshield. By the time I was passing through Marshall, the clouds were nearly black, the wind was pushing my SUV all over the road, and rain was pounding sheets so hard that the wipes almost weren’t helping. My phone was sounding off alerts – probably text messages – but I didn’t like looking at my phone at the best of times in the car, let alone in this mess. When it rang, it was Maggie checking on me. I told her I was fine, but the storm was pretty bad and slowing me down a little. I told her we were still on and all was well.
Just before my exit, the storm eased up. The rain was a sudden trickle compared to what it was earlier, and the wind died down. The clouds remained black and the thunder softened. I stopped and turned on my GPS to find the winery and arrive just 15 minutes late. As I pulled up, the gravel parking area was nearly empty. I spotted what looked like Maggie in a car and pulled up next to her.
She rolled down her window. “So, they decided to close early – most people left as the storm hit.”
“OK, s…Plan B?”
“Tell you what,” she replied, “I picked up a few bottles and there’s food at home. I’m not far from here. Follow me and we’ll hang out.”
After all the cautionary stories about going to a stranger’s home, I wasn’t crazy about her house as the venue for a first meeting with someone from online. Visions of drinking, laughs, blacking out, and waking up in a bathtub full of ice and me missing vital organs danced through my mind. But my instinct told me that Maggie was safe…or at least hoped she was safe. Latent horniness might’ve been trumping common sense.
We wound back over to Route 55, turning west and traveling a few miles until she turned onto a road with a gate. Looking ahead of us, the road beyond wound up the side of a small mountain dotted with houses. I watched her type a code into the gate’s keypad, lift up, and she motioned to follow her in.
It was only ten minutes, but it felt like forever driving up and up and up the mountain side. It was all heavily wooded, so most houses were hidden from road. And there weren’t any streetlights, so almost all I could see was what my headlights lit up. In a few clearings there were lights from houses down in the small valley and along the next ridgeline. I bet the place looked amazing in Autumn.
Finally, we pulled up to Maggie’s place – another house nicely tucked away amongst old oak trees and bushy pines. The driveway was all gravel, leading right up to a token front porch and a side door that looked like the kitchen. Maggie climbed out of her car as I pulled up behind, and walked over to my window. As I lowered it down, she leaned in, resting an arm on the door.
“Hey! You made it!”
Up close, Maggie was lovely. Her 48 years complimented her very well. Her hair hung just below her shoulders, and was some odd mix of brown and red with some blonde mixed in. She had a delightful splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and her tanned skin had a slight leather finish that I found very attractive. Her smile was wide and warm. She wore jeans that fit like a glove with some type of strappy high heels. In the rain? Her top was a slim fitted white blouse that accented her frame, betrayed by the not-too-small/not-too-big curves of her chest and hips. Her nails were perfectly manicured and her perfume was a mix of floral and fruity scents…cherries, I think. I must’ve took too long looking her over.
“Are you OK with this,” she asked, some concern in her expression.
“I’m good…you gonna let me get out of the car?”
She laughed and stood back as I rolled up the window and got out. Even in my shoes, Maggie stood an inch or two over me. It just hit me that I didn’t remember her vital statistics from the dating profile, so I didn’t think about height being an issue. I’m not particularly tall, so I was used to a certain amount of rejection online from women intent on finding their minimum-six-foot-tall dreamboat.
Maggie smiled.
“Funny,” she said smiling, her eyes looking at my stance compared to hers “C’mon, let’s drink.”
As we entered the house from the side door, Maggie plopped her shoes off, walking barefoot. She dropped the bag on the counter with the unmistakable clink of glass wine bottles.
“Hey, do I need to take mine off?” I asked.
“Oh no, I just prefer being barefoot.”
Even barefoot, she still stood a little taller. She gave me a quick tour – a two-bedroom house that was pretty roomy. The place was set with furniture and creature comforts, but not a whole lot of pictures or art on the walls. There was a perfume smell – gentle sweet incense. She didn’t linger too long by the bedroom, but I saw that it wasn’t “made” so much as the covers were pulled up. Everything was clean and more or less in its place, so it was about equal to how I live.
Maggie led me back to the kitchen.
“Hey, pull out one of those bottles and open it,” she said as she pulled some things out of the fridge.
“Which one?” I asked peeking inside.
“Doesn’t matter, whatever looks good.”
Minutes later she had small plates of finger snacks ready and I was pouring white wine into glasses.
She led me to the kitchen’s sliding door which opened to a covered and screened in porch area. It covered half the back porch with the rest of it open to the elements. Setting the food and wine down on a small table, we sat. The air was dead, humid, and hot. By now, the sun was down and dark skies were lit up by the random bolt of lightning up in the clouds.
“Nice place,” I said. “I didn’t know there were gated communities out here.”
Maggie took a long sip of her wine. “I was living in Ashburn when I was married, but I wanted to get out of suburbia, so I convinced my ex to relocate out here. I love it but he hated it. After we separated, he moved back closer to where you are.”
As gentle rumbles of thunder rolled through between lightning-illuminated clouds, I could just make out the outlines of trees and some of the next ridge hidden behind them.
“This is great. You’d never know you had neighbors with those trees blocking everything.”
“I know,” Maggie said. “I like sunbathing on the porch. Just drop the towel on the deck chair and lay down.”
“No one tries to sneak a peek of you in your swimwear?” I asked.
“No,” Maggie laughed a little, “Even if I wore any.”
I took a long sip of my wine, trying to ignore the rush of warmth to my groin and not loiter too much on the image of her naked on a beach towel.
We talked for well over a couple of hours, finishing off two bottles and starting a third. More than comfortably buzzed, I was starting to wonder how I was going to drive home. She shared a bit more about her marriage life, how some of her ex’s family and friends still keep in touch while she kept them at arm’s length. She asked about my relationships, and I shared the not-so-illustrious history of several failed “young and dumb” relationships. We compared first date horror stories and laughed over them.
She slid down into a more relaxed position in her chair, one leg over an armrest, “Did you ever expect to meet another older woman?”
“I didn’t. I mean, it was fun – A LOT of fun, but I’ve been more aimed at women closer to my age.”
“And?” she asked.
“Dating hasn’t been as…fun.” I admitted.
“Do you want to marry someone? Have a family?”
I chuckled a bit at that one. “Half my family is asking me that…I think I do, but not in any hurry just yet.”
Maggie leaned her head back, eyes closed. “Trust me, take your time. Marriage isn’t easy, even when it works.”
“Thanks…”
Her eyes opened slightly as she turned to look at me, “Do you still like older women?”
“They have their charms.” I said.
We were sitting maybe a foot or so apart, her head leaned toward me. From her relaxed angle and my sitting back, I could just see a little bit down her blouse. The edge of a lacy white bra contrasted with the freckles trailing across and down her chest. I didn’t see any lines on her tanned skin. My jeans felt a little tighter.
With one hand resting on her knee, she slid it down a little, her palm now on the inside of her thigh, just an inch or two from the inside of her hip. The corner of her mouth curled up into more of a grin.
“You got quiet. What are you thinking?” She asked.
“The other night on the phone – what were you doing?”
Her brows furled a little.
“At one point, you seemed to get very relaxed, and I thought I heard some moving around.”
Maggie’s brows relaxed; she kept grinning. “I was making myself more comfortable – y’know, changing into PJs, getting in bed.”
I smiled quietly.
Her eyes still barely open, she looked over at me. “The conversation gave me ideas.”

“Fair enough.” I said.
The sky lit up for a moment, a strobing flash filling up the clouds above us. About thirty seconds later a loud rumble shook the place. Neither of us moved. We sat there for a moment, food too warm to eat, way too much wine to drink in us.
“You said you’ve done some dating since your divorce,” I finally asked.
“Yes?”
I made eye contact with her barely open eyes. “Maggie, when’s the last time someone touched you?”
Maggie’s smile grew across her face as she leaned her head back more, close enough that I leaned toward her. Ever so gently, we touched, a slow first kiss. She returned my first move with a few short kisses, then opened her mouth, letting me slip my tongue in. Her tongue was thin and limber, fruity from the wine, and had a sandy quality that complimented the coarseness to her voice.
As we kissed, I leaned in closer to her. Something splashed on the deck boards. We both looked down – our wine glasses still in hand were spilling their contents. Looking into each other’s eyes, we laughed a little and sat up to put the glasses down on the table.

“Nice,” she said, “Most men I’ve met deep kiss like they’re drilling for oil. You need to charge rates for that tongue.”
“Thanks, you, too.”
Maggie crooked her head at me, even her eyes smiled. “Can I get in your lap?”
Without a word I held my arms open as an invitation. She eagerly hopped out of her chair and planted herself in my lap, falling back over the arm rest so she was sitting perpendicular to me. She wrapped one arm around my shoulders as I did the same behind her back and the other across her thighs. I raised my eyebrows to ask “You good? Comfy?” and she nodded back “Yes.
I drew her in and started kissing her in earnest. We traded playful licks, twisted games, and long, slow caresses of each other’s tongues. We developed a rhythm as we kissed. When we parted a little, we still kept tickling the tips of our tongues between diving into deep kissing so intense that I caught myself holding her a little too tightly. Her one hand either gripped my shoulder when we were deeply into one another, or playfully stroked my neck other times. I let my arm slide along her thighs until it was draped across her hips.
Every now and then, a tumble of thunder punctuated the moment.
At one point, we stopped, just looking at one another. I don’t know for how long, just that silent moment of zen shared with someone who’s synched with you in the moment.
I kissed along the line of her chin, making my way to her ear, then tracing her lobe with the tip of my tongue and gently sliding in and out, drawing out a purr-like moan from her. Going down her long neck, I eventually stopped at her collarbone, then back up the middle of her neck, ending up where I started. She craned her head, silently asking me to do the same to the other side. And I obliged. Drawing my hand up to her hip, I could feel her muscles and hipbone in my palm, my fingers brushing the curve of her ass. She tensed from that, so I gently moved my hand to the side of her thigh, stroking the length of it, then up to the small of her back. She relaxed as I made deliberate strokes up and down her spine.
Maggie steadily relaxed, feeling as if she were sinking deeper or melting into my lap. At this point, there was no stopping the blood rushing to my groin, and she must’ve felt me hard as a rock against her ass. We took our time, some moments deeply kissing, others holding and touching.
The wind picked a little, drifting her hair around our heads.
During a quieter moment, Maggie shifted her position, her back now to me, legs between mine, ass planted into my groin. God, she had to know what was going on my pants at that point. She leaned back, stretched her arms out then let them hang loose on the sides, and turned her head to the side and slid her tongue out as I gladly took it in my mouth. I rested my arms across her thighs, not sure if we were on the same page about what was good or hands off. Our tongues wrapped around one another, deeper into the moment, my arms now wrapped around her waist without any protest. Not sure if she was adjusting her seat or intentionally grinding into me a little, she placed her hands on top of mine. She tugged up on my hands so subtly that I almost thought I imagined it, but gave no sign to stop as I slowly moved my hands toward her chest.
My hands glided over her perfectly flat stomach, and not sure how or when she did it, but I felt her blouse unbuttoned as I felt the base of her breasts against my wrists. She took her hands off mine and finished opening up her blouse, feeling her warm skin and softness of her bra in my palms. Kissing her started to get more energetic, her hips sliding back and forth or side to side. Cupping her breasts in my hands, I felt her nipples completely erect underneath, then her bra loosen – she unhooked the front clasp. Sliding my hands inside, her nipples were hard and warm, playing hide and seek between my fingers. Her breasts felt wonderful, moving with my hands as she purred and moaned quietly. I don’t know how long I held and played with her breasts – just didn’t want to stop.
A bright flash lit up with an immediate and resounding rumble of thunder all around us as another storm front began to roll in. The sound of leaves and small branches tittered over the roof and exposed porch.
I opened my eyes, looking into Maggie’s.
“I think we may need to go inside.”
She sighed, and felt as if her common sense mind was arguing with her still in the moment body to move. I looked around, seeing her open blouse and bra presenting her chest and every line of stomach. To my surprise, she had unzipped her jeans, her hand firmly tucked into them.
She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and I nearly forgot about the wild storm kicking things up.
Eventually, we got up, gathered up the glasses and plates and went inside. The stark contrast of the air conditioned air felt wonderful after the oppressive heat and humidity. Leaving everything unceremoniously on the counter, Maggie took my hand, smiled, and walked toward her bedroom. The storm raged outside as I noticed the one light on her bedstand flicker and brown out for a moment.
She stopped, turned, her blouse and bra still hanging open, if barely hanging off of one shoulder. There was an edge to the look on her face, and a definite glint in her eye. Almost effortlessly, she rolled her shoulders, allowing blouse and bra to quietly fall to the floor. I went to pull off my t-shirt, but she stopped me midway, grabbing it herself and finishing the job for me. As I unzipped my jeans moving toward her, she walked backward to the bed, pushing hers down past her hips until the fell down her legs.

Even in the dim light, that sea of freckles down her chest continued the length of her body. Her muscle tone matched her form. If there was a single hair she missed while getting ready, I couldn’t find it. Every breath made her stomach move in and out, emphasizing those wonderful stomach lines.
She laid down on the bed, arms stretching, a single sigh slipping out of her mouth. Kicking my jeans away, I knelt at the edge of the bed. Without looking up, she draped one of her legs over my shoulder and spread the other wider. Planting small kisses along the inside of her thigh, I deliberately took my time moving in. One of her hands drifted over her glistening pussy, splitting her fingers open as they framed her lips.
Maggie let in a mild gasp as I first touched her clit with the tip of my tongue. Even more so when I circled around it, then traced the outside of her lips. Her arms slowly moved back and forth over the bed as I lapped at her – feeling, tasting around, and pushing her lips apart. She moaned, still more muted than I expected, but a purr as proof that I was doing all the right things. I traded off between fully exploring her with my mouth, or kissing around it and sucking gently on her clit. Sometimes I’d rub my finger along the outside, finally forcing much stronger sounds out her mouth. My other hand drifted over her stomach and side or feeling her breasts, nipples still hard.
Sliding a finger inside of her felt like a risk, but her arched back and sudden gasp told me not to stop. She was beyond wet, soaking. Moving in and out only made her moan and gasp louder, especially as I curled my finger – almost certainly finding her magic spot. She held her breath for who knows how long.
The storm went on for a while, even as I eased off on her to give my mouth and tongue a well-earned rest, Maggie’s hips gently slid back and forth, rubbing herself as I laid down next to her. She grabbed my arm as I made to wipe my mouth and rolled over, kissing me deeply and then licking around my mouth with a smile. She was warm and soft against me, I loved the look and feel of her breasts. Maggie kissed me again, sliding her hand down to my hard cock standing at full attention. Her fingers curled around it, slowly and gently stroking it. I could feel her nails teasingly graze my balls, sending beautiful tingles up and down my spine. As she reached the tip on one stroke, she pinched the precum between two fingers, pulling them away with a thin, delicate line still connected to the head. She rubbed her fingers together, letting it ooze all over them, then just as deftly brought her hand back to stroking my cock. Long smooth motions without gripping it too hard.
She kissed me deeply, hand never leaving my cock, her tongue still feeling amazing in my mouth.

She elegantly drew away from my face, took her hand off my cock, and straddled herself over my hips – my cock resting against the middle of her ass. She shifted her hips to move my cock backwards and forwards, a teasing smile on her face. She rose up, and guiding it with one hand, slid her pussy onto me. She was on fire inside, wet beyond words, and I could feel her insides tighten. She slowly rode me a few times until it almost fell out of her, then dropped back down on it. The last time she did that, she completely got off of me.

Like a cat, she spun around, draped herself over my waist facing away from me, and I felt her lick my cock from base to tip and back, then took me in her mouth. Her tongue felt as amazing now as it did when we were kissing. It slid and twirled around my shaft, flicked my head and tip, and held it as she took me all the way in without the slightest gag. I felt her side and hip with my hand as she focused on me, never going too fast or hard, keeping a beautiful pace. Closing my eyes, I tried taking it all in as she worked over and on me.

I felt her mouth slide off of me, her lips sealing it with a kiss on the head.
Maggie turned around and straddled over me, my cock so erect that she didn’t need to guide it in. Her hips gyrated back and forth while pressed down on me, her arms gently floating at her sides, eyes closed, breathing almost hypnotic. My hands were on her thighs, feeling them shift with her hips. I couldn’t get over how she moved her hips with just her waist, and clenched and released her thighs when she wanted to rise up and back down on me.
Her breathing was getting faster and sharper, and I was eager to move around. Tugging on her waist on both sides with my hands, she dutifully slid off of me and gingerly laid down on the bed.

I rolled off and stood at the edge of the bed facing Maggie, as she spread her legs as far apart as she could, dreamily looking at me, rubbing her pussy with both hands. My cock felt even harder just from watching her, and I climbed back on the bed, lining myself up between her legs. Laying over her, I guided myself inside. She closed her eyes and moaned, grabbing the covers in both fists. I took my time pushing into her until pressed fully into her, then slid out just as deliberately until just the head was in. The rhythm I took was steady at first, not wanting to get ahead of myself or deny her a well-deserved climax.
Every thrust forced a powerful exhale from both of us, her grunts and moans now more guttural than cat like. Maggie tightened her thighs up against me, feet crossed behind. I craned my head down and finally licked and gently bit on her still erect nipples, feeling and tasting as wonderful as I imagined. Our rhythm increased, legs clamped around me, trying to help me thrust harder and harder, her clenched fists pulling the covers into disorganized piles on either side. Moans and gasps were now yelps and heavy breathing, her skin’s leathery sheen formed beads of sweat and wispy hair stringy and clinging to her face and neck.
I was slicked and fast inside her now, then felt the unmistakable quivering and flexing as she shouted out in orgasm, her legs locked and unmovable. A few more thrusts and I felt the pressure flash from my hips, through my loins, and then my cock pumping away inside her. The cum was intense, feeling like I was firing deeper into her than anyone I’d ever been with. I was locked on and wishing to get even deeper as I came into her. We held each other, not moving until long after I was done.
Breathing heavy and damp with sweat, it was only then that I noticed the thunderstorm still roiling outside.
As my cock finally began to soften, Maggie loosened her legs and the fell limp onto the bed. I withdrew from her beautiful pussy and laid down part way on her, my cock resting on her hip. Her eyes still closed, she let go of the covers, and with a free hand, felt and stroked my cock, fingering the last remnants of cum trickling out of me and sucking on her fingers to taste hers and my juices together.
We laid there silent until the winds died and the rain stopped.
Soon enough, the cold dry air chilled us and we got under the covers, she curled up against me as we both fell asleep.

TO BE CONTINUED