A Cougar's Story Ch. 01byolderbroad©
When Jim and I were younger, we were very sexually active; with each other, and with others. We were swingers; not for everybody, but we enjoyed the years that we spent in the lifestyle. As with all things, there came a time when we stopped participating in the lifestyle. Jim's meds took a toll on him, my chemo drugs robbed me of a libido and we were all good with that.
A couple of years ago, I noticed certain signs indicating that perhaps, my libido wasn't quite dead. Jim's not impotent, but the meds make it difficult, though not impossible, to perform. No, Viagra-type drugs are not an option because of interaction with his meds. Mostly, our sex life was oral in nature, and we were both good with that because we both love giving and receiving oral.
So, it was all good, until two years ago. The train went off the track. As part of me being able to deal with it, I'm writing about it.
I never thought I'd be writing about an encounter, but yet, here I am, writing about something that should have never happened, but did.
Simply said, I fucked up.
Don't get ahead of me, as I write this, but I'll write it as I told it to Jim, my sweetie, my husband, my love. For you, the reader, to fully understand this indiscretion, a little background is necessary.
I've known Frank and his wife for years, Frank having worked with me before I had met Jim. Frank and I are friends, dear, dear friends, and remained so, after Jim and I married, and after Frank and Susan tied the knot. Our relationship has always been one of friendship with Frank and Susan, never one of a sexual nature.
That said, Jim has always said that if he could trust anyone with my life and to protect me, it'd be Frank.
He'd be right.
Fast-forward to our move to the west coast, and eventually, Frank and Susan's move to the Midwest. When we retired and relocated to the Midwest, we were a short four-hour drive from Frank and Susan. Stuff happened that had forced Susan to relocate to Alabama, to care for her mother. Frank had to remain back in their small town, to keep his job, to keep his benefits. He had contracted Prostate Cancer and the resulting treatment and operation has rendered him impotent, a fact that he and Susan can live with, considering their living arrangements now. To be sure, whenever Susan's mother passes on, she'll return to their home in the Midwest.
For the past few years, I've been traveling up to Frank's small town during their Oktoberfest celebration, just me, not Jim. He's good with me staying at Frank's for this visit, Susan has no problems with it either, nor does Frank. Even if Frank was able to perform, neither of us would want to ruin the friendship for something as trivial as a sexual fling with each other. It would never enter my mind to fuck Frank, and though I can't speak entirely for him, I don't think it ever entered into Frank's mind either.
Fast-forward again; I'd come to know Frank's friends on these trips and once they were past the shock that Frank and I's spouses had no problem with me spending time with Frank, and staying at his house, they accepted me into their small social circle. I was thankful for that as they are a fun group.
Frank and his friends are a bit younger than me; I'm 56 now, and they're in their mid-forties to early fifties. So now, the background is set, and the story will unfurl as I told it to Jim, after I returned from that year's visit.
I drove myself up, like I do every year for this visit, and arrived on Thursday. Frank and I went to dinner, caught up with each other's lives and returned to his place and were in our beds, in separate bedrooms, by ten o'clock that night.
Friday, Frank and I got to play a bit of golf with two of the circle; Bob, a single guy of about forty-five then, very nice, and welcoming of me from the start, and Candi, a friend to the circle but not a romantic interest for Bob, just friends.
Golf was a fun time though the wind made it difficult, and afterwards, we retired to the local pub that they hung out at most evenings. I was friends with the owner and his girlfriend and they welcomed me with open arms as they have done since I've been coming up here.
Soon, as the rest of the circle drifted in, we were all sitting at a long table, there being eight or nine of us by now. We talked among each other freely, laughing and joking, the 'girls'-there were three of us females-each taking a turn on the dance floor with the guys when they asked. As I've said, a fun group.
Bob asked me to dance again, probably the third or fourth time since we had gotten to the pub. This time, though, when we danced he held me just a bit closer, a bit tighter to him as we danced to the slow country tune. I had had a few beers by then and was feeling a bit loosie-goosie, enjoying the dance, enjoying the feel of my body rubbing against Bob's while we danced. I interrupted my own thoughts with a 'what-the'fuck' moment when I realized what feelings and thoughts that close contact with Bob had stirred up.
We walked back to our table, my mind doing some flips as it tried to reconcile the situation; I put it in the deep recesses of my brain, and rejoined the joviality at our table. Around ten'ish or so, Frank and I said our goodbyes, and walked back to his house, neither of us feeling much pain. We said our goodnights and went to our separate bedrooms.
I couldn't get to sleep for some reason, my mind replaying the evening and the feelings that had gotten stirred up as I danced with the guys, especially, for whatever reasons, dancing with Bob.
Lying there in the darkness of my bedroom, I let my thoughts wander and I found myself rubbing my pussy, there in the dark; giving in to the carnal urges that had built up as I replayed the evening, I masturbated, the first time in a long time; and yes, it did feel good.
On Saturday, Frank's local service club always had a food and beer tent and I always helped serve the customers, bringing food and drinks to their tables. And of course, there's always a bit of beer-sipping going on in the backroom by the serving staff, so we got to enjoy the festivities also, in our own way. Always a good time.
After our shift was through for the day, around six in the evening, we helped with the cleanup and walked to the pub, arriving around seven'ish or so. We were greeted by the circle and invited to join them at the table. As we drank, partied, and danced, towards the end of the evening Bob wound up sitting with Frank and me; well, sitting next to us really, as we all sat at the same long table.
This evening, however, as I danced with Bob, I felt the return of those same 'horny' signals as he held me close. Like I told Jim, I really did shove them in the back of my mind, figuring the drinking was mainly the cause, but yet, I enjoyed them as we danced, my mind fast-tripping through different scenarios; I'd have flashbacks to some of the threesomes with other guys that Jim and I had had over our years in the swinger lifestyle, and this only served to make my 'horny' motor run hotter and faster. But, I couldn't get my mind to stop with those images. I found myself idly wondering about whether or not Bob would be a good fuck; just as soon as that thought entered my head, I'd push it out, but yet, it still lingered there, in the background of my consciousness.
Near midnight, it was obvious that Frank was totally wasted, barely able to keep his eyes opened. As a group, it was decided that I'd need some help in getting Frank back to his house, a short three blocks away in the small town. Bob volunteered to walk back with Frank and me, to help me get Frank home safely. Frank was out of it, and when Bob told him to stand up so that he could go home, Frank stood and walked in the direction that Bob and I pointed him.
We made it safely back to Frank's house, only a couple of stumbles along the way, but no falls, thank goodness. Opening the door-it's never locked in this small town-Bob and I managed to get Frank inside, and up to his bedroom. I left it to Bob to get Frank into bed and under the covers, while I returned downstairs.
Bob joined me in a few minutes, saying that Frank was out 'like a light', snoring before his head hit the pillow, at which, we both laughed. Then Bob asked if there was a beer in the fridge; I told him to grab me one too as I walked into the living room. I really shouldn't have asked for another beer since I was pretty blitzed myself, but fuck it, I did.
Bob joined me with a couple of cold bottles of Corona, sitting on the couch as I was. We clinked our bottle-necks together and drank to everyone's health. Bob and I talked, nonsensical talk about nothing in particular, both of us enjoying the beer buzz that we had.
Bob fetched us another couple of beers but this time, when he sat on the couch, it was almost right next to me, close enough that I could feel the heat from his thigh, next to mine. I thought about saying something about he sitting so close, but just as quickly, I dismissed it from my thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the bit of intimacy of sitting close to one another.
That was my second mistake; the first mistake was letting this bit of whatever it was going on between Bob and I, to get this far. As I struggled to keep up with the conversation I noticed, or thought I did anyway, that Bob was looking at me differently, a bit softer maybe? I don't know but I knew it was 'different', that's what I knew.
I was having trouble keeping my eyes opened, and was weaving just a bit, all the beers having seemed to hit me at once, but I stayed somewhat alert. Out of the clear blue, as Bob was saying something to me, I'm not even sure what it was, I interrupted him, stopping his voice.
"Bob?" I remember clearly saying, "I think I'm going to need help to get upstairs so that I can go to bed."
I remember a slight smile crossing his lips, a pleasant smile of 'having been there done that", crossing his lips. I also remember at that instant, the thought of maybe fucking Bob crossed through my mind, fast, like a bullet train.
I hate that it did, but it did, nevertheless.
Bob pulled me from the couch, setting my half-full beer on the coffee table, and guided me towards the stairs, holding me a bit steady as we climbed them. He helped me down the hallway, opened the door and turned on the light, the small lamp by my bed. I sat down on the bed and sort of leaned back, using my arms to support my body. Bob just looked at me and asked if I was going to be alright. I said, "I think so, I think I can get my clothes off."
Laughing just a bit, he jokingly, at least I thought it was jokingly, asked if I needed his help.
"I don't think so, I don't know, maybe....." I said, a bullet-train vision of his hands on my body flashing through my head, shocking me, but at the same time, sending a flash of heat to my crotch.
He stood there, looking at me, seriously now but with warmth, as well. I remember looking back at him, holding his eyes with mine. Still looking at him, my mind full of a million things now, I kicked off my shoes, and leaning onto one hand now, I started unbuttoning my blouse, not caring that he was still in the room, getting three buttons undone before I fell backwards onto the bed, onto my back.
I remember watching him as he sat down on the bed, next to me, and using both of his hands, he continued where I had left off, to unbutton my blouse, pulling it from out of my jeans, and then helping me out of it by leaning me against himself as he took it from my arms.
I had placed my arms on his shoulders and leaned my head against his head and shoulder after he took off my blouse. I remember feeling my nipples hardened against my thin bra at the intimacy of the situation.
"Your jeans?" he asked, his hand resting near my ass, on my lower back.
Falling back onto the bed, I remember just nodding yes to his question, my fingers fumbling with my belt buckle. He took over that, as well, moving my hands aside, he undid the buckle, then unsnapped my jeans, pulling the zipper down on my fly. I remember my pussy flashing hot when he did it, and feeling a bit of dampness in my crotch.
I'm still on the thin side, and wear size 4 jeans, pretty tight on my ass, but that's what I like about them.
Lifting my ass off of the bed, I let him tug, pull, slide and manipulate my jeans until he was past my hips; lifting my legs to help, he pulled my jeans from my legs, tossing them to the floor.
It was at this second, I later told Jim, that I knew that I was going to fuck Bob. That for whatever reason, I wanted to fuck Bob; it wasn't so much that it was Bob, he was just at the right place, at the right time. I guess if the truth be told; it was more about fucking, than it was about fucking him. I think that it could have been almost anyone and the result would probably be the same, given the same set of circumstances.
When he turned back to face me after tossing my jeans, my legs were laying flat again, my legs, below the knees, dangling off the edge of the bed. I remember my head being turned a bit to the side and my eyes being half-closed. I remember Bob looking at me with arousal, which I remember, sent a thrill through me. To be looked at, lustfully, when you're fifty-something is very sensually arousing.
I glanced at his crotch, a quick glance, but long enough for me to see that his jeans were straining to contain his erection. That realization also sent a shiver of a thrill through my body, coming to rest in my pussy, which was now on fire with horniness.
"Turn off the light, Bob," I remember saying to him and when he had done so and turned back towards me, I reached for his hand, found it, and placed it on my jockey panties, right on top of my trimmed bush. Reaching for his head, I pulled him down on top of me, our mouths quickly finding each other. His hand was now squeezing and rubbing my pussy, my legs spread a bit to make it easier for him to do what I wanted done.
I rolled onto my side so that he could undo my bra, his mouth quickly on my breasts when I lay back down. I had always been self-conscious about my B-cup breasts, but now that I'm older, I'm glad that they are still rather firm and not droopy. I held his head as he sucked and licked my breasts, while I continued grinding my hips and pussy against his fondling hand between my legs. I began pulling my panties down and Bob helped me get them off, his hand returning to touching and fondling me.
I moved onto the bed, placing my head on the pillows as he quickly got out of his clothes, both of us silent. The only light in the room came through the blinds in my room, from a street light one house down. It was enough for me to see a brief shadow of Bob getting out of his shorts and enough to see his erection when it popped free.
When he lay down next to me to kiss me, his hard cock was pinned against my thigh, throbbing against my skin and feeling very good to me. As we kissed, I reached my hand between us, grabbing his cock firmly as he moved to give me better access to his member.
It was at this point, I told Jim, that I realized that it was the pure, animal, sex-drive that had taken over me. It was then, I told Jim, that I realized that it was all about the sex, and nothing about the people. It was then, I told Jim, that I dove into the pool headfirst.
Positioning Bob so that his head was on the pillows and lying on his back, I continued to stroke his cock, moving my hand slowly up and down his rather thick shaft, as I leaned up on one elbow.
He wasn't as long or as thick as Jim, but he was a damned close second, and he felt good in my hand. Seeing a glint of wetness on his cock-head, I instantly lowered my mouth around his cock, taking him deep-throat quickly, then, slowly, pulling my mouth up his cock until I just had the head of his cock in my mouth.
I slipped my tongue around his cock-head, the wetness of his pre-cum tasting good to me; sliding him in and out of my mouth, I became crazy-horny. I fell onto my back, pulling him on top of me, opening my legs to wrap around him as I felt his cock slip into my pussy.
We fucked like a pair of teenagers for the first time, only lasting longer before climaxing. Bob was long-lasting enough for me to grab three quick orgasms, really nice orgasms before he exploded his load into me.
We fell together onto the bed, both of us 'sex-wet', and we lay together, neither of us talking, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
I broke the silence.
"You know that this was just about the sex and the orgasm, don't you?" I said, my voice low in the night.
"Yes, I do," he said.
"You know that this wasn't about me and you, and that it was about cock and pussy, right?"
"Yes, I know that as well," he answered.
"You know that this can never be spoken of, that it must remain secret, abso-fucking-lutely secret, right?" I pressed
"Yes," his answer short, and to the point.
"And that no matter what happened here tonight, between us, that it will never happen again, right?"
He sighed this time and said, "Yes, sadly, I understand that this is a one-time thing. Believe me; I will not betray your trust."
And because I wanted to, I told Jim, I fucked him one more time, getting off once more and stopping him from getting off so that I could suck his cock to climax; I wanted to feel another guy's warm cum sliding down my throat, I did, so I did.
Bob left soon after I swallowed the last drop of his jism, relishing its salty and musky taste.
We saw each other the next day, at the pub, while we watched football with the circle, and his behavior, as was mine, just as it had always been with us. Even at moments when it was just he and I at the table, he never acknowledged or alluded to last evening.
That made me feel good; that made me feel safe.
Jim was loving and completely understanding about what had happened, about how it happened, and most importantly, why it happened. There were no shouts of shock, no berating remarks, no physical abuse. What there was, was, his incredible understanding nature.
In fact, his comment to me when I told him I was going to write about what happened with Bob, and about the past few years with us and the others, that I need to write about it for my own sake, was simply this; "You know, don't you, that whenever you feel the 'need' for something different, that I'm not against that."
Yeah, I know, and I love you for it.