Barbara's Sex Lives

She turned on the wand. It purred slightly as Barb adjusted it. She was amused further as she skimmed the user instructions, which she read in the original Japanese.

This is one of the few things I read in Japanese now, after all the work I put in to learn it. Now, I suppose, I'll have to learn Chinese.

She lay on her back on the bed. She pulled the hem of the jersey up her thighs, to her belly.

She set the bulb of the wand just to the left of her clitoris hood.

Soon, her murmurs were louder than the wand's hums.

With her free hand, she held up the e-reader and forced herself to read. The main character, a divorcee, was disrobing two young men, as they disrobed her.

The feeling is amazing, she thought as her groin responded, and nothing has to go inside of me!

The first orgasm arched her back, and made her drop the reader. She strengthened her grip on the wand.

Gasping, she raised the reader again. The divorcee got on all fours on the bed. The men knelt at her head and her hindquarters. She took one uncircumcised penis into her mouth, while the other parted her labia and squeezed into her wet depths.

Yes, Lady, take them! Use them!

Another orgasm shook through Barbara.

Better you than I!

Her nipples throbbed against the jersey. Panting, she recalled her most recent research. There was very little on the topic, from sources on paper in the library. But the internet had shown her a wealth of personal experiences from women, and enough journal articles to confirm that many of those, at least, were valid.

Barb sat up, hauled the jersey up and off, then lay nude on her left side. She gripped the wand between her thighs, with the bulb in contact with her clit. She held up the reader with her left hand, and fondled a breast with her right.

From her earliest indulgences in sex, her breasts had been as excited as other parts of her anatomy. A few times, from her own actions or those of her lovers, there had been wild, explosive thrills from her nipples, even pelvic contractions. But Barb had thought that these were offshoots of clitoral or vaginal orgasms, and they happened so rarely that she didn't think they could be pursued separately.

Once she knew that some women enjoyed nipple orgasms, Barb had practiced diligently. She fingered areolas and nipples, sometimes dampening them with saliva. For her, this worked best when she was already aroused genitally. She had gained enough skill to make this joy intentional.

The e-reader now showed her that the divorcee had reconfigured herself, so that one of the young men fucked her vagina while the other fucked her anus.

Barb's nipple was now so far gone that this didn't kill her buzz. She bucked as her body jolted, and she chomped a pillow to mute her raspy grunt.

Eventually, Barb's pleasure centers had no more to give.

As she turned off the wand, she thought, This device will surely make all aspects of sex better for women...yes, including my daughter. Men must meet a higher standard now. I'm sure they'll be capable of that, if they apply themselves.

She wasn't sure if she was making sense. But she didn't need to. It was enough for her to reach over to the nightstand, turn off the light, unplug the wand, gather up the cord, and pull up the covers. And so she fell asleep, next to her high-standard lover, which was hidden away from her daughter.

***

"Connie, this is Barbara," said June.

"Pleased to meet you," said the hefty woman. She smiled, and offered her free hand to Barb.

"Oh, it's mutual," said Barb, suspecting that her own smile was too big. With an effort she kept her body calm as she shook the hand.

"This'll be the usual," said June. "We march from here to the statehouse, holding the signs aloft and chanting the slogans. Then we stand around the dais, cheering only when a speech gets to an obvious break point. Once the TV crews have packed up and left, we can do the same."

Connie gave her a sneer, and said to Barb, "Junie has become quite the cynic."

Barb had to look away and suppress a snort. Fortunately June looked at Connie to say, "After a few years, it gets to be pretty old."

"This got us to civil unions," said Connie. "Maybe someday, real marriage."

After the march began, Barb found a moment when Connie was a few yards away. Barb murmured to June, "How many decades has it been since you were called 'Junie?'"

"Connie and I live together. We're domestic partners. I won't deny her the indulgence of a pet name."

"Does she know about us?"

"Not from me. But she'll probably ask later, and I'll tell her."

"She must know," said Barb, glancing towards Connie. "That's why she drifted over there."

"I'll also tell her that you and I are over."

Barb pulled a face. "As if a wrinkled crone like me could be a threat."

June looked straight ahead. She now had wrinkles of her own, so her resting face tended towards severity. She said, "I'm glad you came today. So I can say, in your presence, that I forgive you."

"And I apologize, if that matters to you." Barb took a breath. "What about blame?"

"Things are better now. So I'd rather not go there." June gave her a smile. "You didn't have to come out here today. Here you are, marching in support of LGBT, out in public. That gives the apology some substance."

"Nice of you to let me off the hook. But...I still hurt you, then."

June said nothing. Barb saw her look towards Connie.

Barb thought, She wants this conversation to be done.

When the rally ended, June's goodbye to Barb was definitely that.

==2024==

Barbara flipped her arm to bring the keys on the coiled wristband up into her hand. She smiled, enjoying the sharp coordination she still had. Major muscle moves wore her out these days, as they had done earlier at the storage vault. But now she and Roy were at their new home, and they could relax.

"Need any help with that?" asked Curtis.

"No, it's fine," said Roy, rolling the flatbed cart with his left hand while holding the cane steadily with his right.

Barb looked back at the staffer while turning the key in the lock. "We'll have to decide where everything goes, so we'll take our time and move things that aren't heavy."

Curtis smiled. "Some people insist that they never need any help. I don't think that'll be a problem with you."

"We're seventy-two," said Roy, "and we know what we can and can't do." He smiled. "They call this assisted living, and I'm lazy enough to ask for assistance."

"Maid service!" Barb exulted as she opened the door. "No yard work or snow shoveling! A dining hall when we'd like to be waited on!"

"Okay," said Curtis. "Call any time."

Barb waved to him, then closed the door once her husband was clear of the threshold.

"Alone at last," she said to Roy, in her jokey seductress voice.

"Only if the well-being cam is turned off," he replied, resting the cart along a wall.

Barb pulled her phone from a cargo pocket, and fingered it briefly. "Now it is."

He gave her a leer. "Okaaaayyy! I'll make coffee."

Soon they were side by side on the loveseat, each supplied with caffeine.

"I know we've talked this, pardon the phrase, to death," said Barb. "But I want to be absolutely sure. Do you have any regrets about this? Any at all?"

"No regrets," he said firmly, "and more delights than I can count. How about you?"

"This is exactly where I want to be," she said, "and with whom I want to be."

He chuckled. "'Whom.' Still an editor."

"That made me a good living. In several languages." She took a breath, then said, "You no longer have the Corvette."

"The new owner is already posting pics on social media. I can see it whenever I want." Before Barb could respond, Roy added, "It's his turn to search for parts!"

She smiled at that. Suddenly, Roy leaned close, put a hand behind her head, and kissed her, slow and deep.

When that ended, he pulled back an inch, and whispered, "My God, that smile!"

She needed a moment, but then said, "Are you sure you don't need better glasses?"

"I'm the same superficial male I was fifty years ago."

"Lucky me." Then, however, she had to think about the intervening fifty years. "You don't have to go overboard for my sake."

He slumped a bit. "I'm so grateful that we found each other again, Barbara. But I won't lie to you. Gail was the love of my life. You've done so much to limit my sadness, but it will never go away completely."

"You should always honor her memory, Roy. I would never try to take her place. You don't have to love me, just live with me." She took another breath, to get through what she had to say next. "I've never, in my life, experienced what people call romantic love. Many times, though, I've felt great happiness with another person, and worked to give happiness to that person. Love is what I feel for my daughter, and my grandsons, and that isn't romantic. You, Roy, are giving me great happiness. If it's important to you, I can use the L-word with you."

"No," he said. "We're at the stage in life when we should be completely honest. I'm happy to make you happy." He chortled. "That sounds like a song from before we were born."

She chuckled, then quickly said, "Oh no, do you have to kiss me again? I didn't know that my smile was weaponized!"

"Nah, it's no fun if you're expecting it."

Their banter was relaxed, and Barb enjoyed it thoroughly. In their college days, their conversation often crackled with tension. After lube gave Barb as much pleasure from sex as Roy had, they could relax together. And then, months later, go their separate ways.

"This may be our last stop," she said, looking around at their living room, "but it better not be a short one. We'll take our pills. You'll keep up your physical therapy. We'll see every doctor we're sent to. I expect at least twenty years here with you, Mister."

"Here's a goal," he said. "We stick around until after Curtis retires."

"Deal!" She offered her hand, and he shook it.

For a few moments, they looked at each other in silence.

"As I said," she said, leaning close, "'Alone at last.'"

"Alone together," he said. "Much better than the other kind of alone."

She reached to finger the notch between his collarbones. Then she parted the shirt button just below.

She trailed each opened button with a kiss through gray chest hair.

"You're tired, right?" Roy said among audible breaths.

"So are you," she said, "and it's too late, today, for tadalafil."

He chuckled. "So what are your intentions?"

"To have fun. Frisky, but easy."

Roy's upper body was still good. Not as strong as it once was, but equal to the task of denuding a woman's torso. Gently he lifted the sweater over Barb's head, and down her arms. He moved his hands around to her back, and deftly separated the bra hooks. He brought the straps down her arms as well.

With a cheeky grin, Barb arched her back and elevated her neck. After so many years of dreading this reveal, she was now happy, if not actually proud, to present her bared torso to a lover. Especially to Roy, who had eagerly learned how to pleasure her nipples to orgasm.

A benefit of being small, she thought smugly. Another one is that they don't sag. Much.

His gaze seemed hungry. Barb placed a hand in Roy's lap. His eyes closed.

With her other hand, she picked up the remote.

"Shall we check in with Stephanie?"

"We're paying for it, so, sure."

Barb knew that Roy's snarking was a joke, and he knew she knew. It was Roy who had subscribed to Stephanie's cam feed, after he and Barb had researched to ensure that the performer was in full control of her content, and her hosting site took only a small bite of the money.

Barb handed Roy the remote. "Choose something you like, my studmuffin." Then she stood and sashayed to the linen closet. As she returned, she held the beach towel to one side as she unfolded it, so Roy could enjoy her half-nude self parading, before seeing, on the 70-inch flatscreen, the total nudity of a woman many years younger.

"Up," said Barb. Roy stood, and shed his shirt. Barb spread the towel on the loveseat cushions, then grabbed Roy's belt and yanked to open it.

Giggling, she rolled her chest on his. He grabbed her butt, smacked it, then undid her cargoes.

She knelt as she pulled down his jeans and shorts, then drove her tongue to one side of his cock. It was flaccid, but after a few licks it swelled a bit. Barb gripped the backs of his thighs, to keep him steady.

"Enough," he wheezed.

As she rose, he pulled down her underwear. "Be careful!" she said urgently.

He was. He took hold of his cane, and used it to get him kneeling before her. She sat, and spread her legs.

He licked her vulva, more deeply than she had licked him. Beyond him, she saw Stephanie on the flatscreen, approached by two men. All three were still dressed.

"Thanks," said Barb. "That helps. But from now on, lube." Saliva was okay, sometimes, but could only do so much. Her own vaginal fluid had never flowed abundantly, and menopause had reduced it further.

Roy sat next to her again. Barb gently lifted his legs, one at a time, to remove his socks.

Roy backed up the video a couple minutes, to Stephanie's intro: "Hi everybody! Today I have a couple of friends coming over. Oops, I said coming!" She laughed, great teeth blazing within her smooth dark face.

Barb enjoyed the young woman's delivery, as silly as it sometimes was. Stephanie at least presented as enjoying what she did. Many cam performers didn't seem to keep that up, after weeks and months.

Roy's lubed fingers gently parted Barb's labia.

When we were kids, she thought, sex meant exactly one thing. What hands and mouths did was just foreplay. Sex was what happened when a prick got into a pussy. If you liked it, great. If not, too bad.

Stephanie's 'friends' finished undressing her. Barb's heartbeat quickened. Roy had observed that Barb appreciated attractive women, visually. He had never asked about this in more detail, and Barb had never offered.

Barb was able to resume her train of thought. On the long road to now, 'sex' became the label for many more activities. Some had been happening all along, but not valued the same way as prick-in-pussy. Some were done in deep secrecy, with only pricks, or only pussies, or only one of those. Some involved a voice talking dirty, from far away.

Barb lifted Roy's phallus from his groin. It was soft, but it thickened as she squeezed gently with thumb and forefinger. It remained soft, but lengthened, so she could put all four fingers around it. She began slowly stroking the shaft.

Prick-in-pussy, or the less slangy penis-in-vagina, is now just one kind of sex. For baby boomers, who refuse to accept the aging process, vasodilation and hormone replacement can only buy so much time. We're living too long for that. I've spent my adult life broadening what I can think of, and enjoy, as sex.

She leaned against Roy. The two fingers that had passed through her orifice walked slowly, spreading lube. His free hand cupped, and slowly squeezed, her near breast.

She cooed, head lolling on the back of the loveseat.

She felt his lips close on her nipple.

Her eyes opened languidly. Stephanie was being spit-roasted. Roy's head was pressed on Barb's chest.

"You're not watching," said Barb.

He gazed up at her, and freed his lips enough to say, "Yes I am."

She grinned, and a tingle traveled her walls. Fluid of her own met what was on his fingers.

Her grip on his shlong had been gentle. Now, she tightened it, and quickened her stroke. With his mouth again on her breast, he hummed.

If he'd rather look at a wrinkled old biddy, she thought, and ignore a naked hottie fifty years younger, he deserves my best yanking.

She inhaled deeply, her tunnel squirming in delight on his fingers, his tongue on her nipple making her heart pound. Sex is how people are made. It can also make pleasure. With a little effort, and a lot of knowledge, the part of sex that doesn't make people, can still make pleasure. That's been my story, from the quiet of libraries to the vastness of the internet. And I'm sticking to it!

Contractions bloomed, spreading from her belly. She thrilled to her first orgasm in their assisted home.

I want hundreds!

Roy's penis, still soft, spurted in her hand. She continued to pump him, without flinching, without disgust, until the droplets ceased.

Then she let go, spread her fingers, and wiped them on the towel.

Some things hadn't changed.