The Girl Who Gave a F*ck

The Valentine's Day gift that changed my life

Author's note: To anyone put off by the first paragraph of this story, I urge you to please stick with it. -N2P

Something incredible, improbable, and life-altering happened to me recently and I still have trouble believing it. I, a 63-year-old man, had sex with an extremely attractive 21-year-old woman. No, I know what you're thinking. I didn't pay for it. I don't have the kind of money it takes to be a sugar daddy or to have the young hotties chasing after me just to get their hands on my cash. And no, she's not my daughter's friend or my friend's daughter or anything like that. Oh, I'm also not a rapist, of either the Cosby variety or any other. Just want to make that clear. Nope. None of that. This is a girl I met in a coffee shop. So how did it all happen? Well let me tell ya...

My name's Dan. I'm retired. I've got a pension from my time in the Air Force and a little 401K money from a few years in Real Estate, so a couple years ago I decided to just hang it up and spend the rest of my time doing what I like, instead of what other folks want from me. I was married for almost 32 years until she got cancer and passed away eight years ago. I've got a couple of kids from that marriage and I do enjoy visiting them and helping out when they need it, but that's not too often. They're grown and pretty independent. So mostly I spend my time now playing golf, helping out as a volunteer handyman with County Senior Services, and reading. I like to read. Always have.

For the last year or so I've done most of my reading at a small local coffee shop. The place is cozy, has good light, and it's not too busy, so they let me sit there pretty much as long as I like. I'd rather be there than sitting at home by myself. Plus I can sip a cup and maybe gnaw on a pastry or a sandwich now and then while I read. I like to think of myself as a friendly enough guy, but I'm not particularly outgoing. I'm not a big talker, and there've been plenty of days when I just sit there for 3-4 hours without saying anything more than telling the workers my order, and saying thank you when they hand it to me.

About 4 months ago, Suzanne started working there. I noticed her right away. I may be old, but I'm not blind and I'm not dead. She had dark, kind of tussled, shortish hair, piercing blue eyes, and nice, full lips. My wife had the same basic combo, and I've always gone for it. Suzanne didn't really look like Brenda, but that look was definitely "my type." She was medium height, trim, and although her apron kind of covered up her figure, when it wasn't pulled too tight and she was walking away, her ass looked just about perfect.

So she wasn't just cute, she was my kind of cute. And it got even better. After she'd worked there a few weeks, just from what I could overhear and observe and notice from my brief interactions with her, she had more personality than probably the rest of the staff put together. She was also smart. She was quick with a quip and little comments trying to make conversation with the customers, or interacting with the staff. For me, after she noticed I was a regular, she was always trying to get me to try some new coffee drink, not even ones on the menu, just stuff she made up.

Our little conversations were always brief and fairly professional, but with that tiny extra dose of friendly that keeps customers coming back and feeling good. Often she would notice the book I was reading and ask me about it. It started out with a simple, "Whatchya readin' Dan?" and then it took off from there. I didn't know anything about her personal life, how old she was, whether she had a boyfriend, or even if she dated guys or girls. I didn't know if she was in college or was a high school dropout, but I knew she like Vonnegut, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Raymond Chandler and Raymond Carver, could speak intelligently about them, and she also had a real dislike for self-help books and pop psychology.

Suzanne was damn cute, funny, smart, well-read, and I liked her a lot. It's not really fair to say I had a thing for her though. True, I liked looking at her, and talking to her, even briefly, was often the highlight of my day, but I was three times her age. She was younger than either of my kids. Even when I was her age she'd have probably been out of my league, looks-wise. I never really thought she was flirting with me, not even a little bit. The thought of my getting together with her in any kind of way outside the coffee shop was basically too far-fetched to even waste time thinking about.

"You wouldn't happen to have a mother that's single, would you?" I asked her once. That was the closest thing to flirting I ever tried with her. I know that sounds a little creepy, but trust me, in context it was mostly funny.

She just laughed to herself a little, got a far away look for a second, and replied, "I did, but she's dead now."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! My fat mouth"

"That's OK. It was a few years ago. She probably would have liked you, though, Dan," and then she had to duck back behind the counter to wait on some customers.

It was another one of my stupid little comments that sort of marked a turning point in our relationship. I'd just watched her be especially caring and patient with an elderly woman who, due to tremors in her hand, had just spilled her coffee for the second time and as she passed me after cleaning it up, not annoyed in the least, I said, "You know what's different about you, Suzanne? Unlike all the other people who work here, you actually give a fuck."

"Uh...thanks...I think." She smiled at me in a kind of amused way as she paused, and then took the sopping towel back to the sink to wring it out.

The next time I saw Suzanne was only a couple of days after I'd made that comment. It was actually Valentine's Day, which also happened to be my old anniversary, although I didn't celebrate that anymore. I came in about 9:15am, after the morning rush had died down. The place was fairly quiet. I got my usual order and was lucky to grab my favorite table, which was small and round, with just two seats, near a window, and in the most secluded corner of the place. A few minutes after 10:00 Suzanne came and sat down across from me. Despite seeing me there nearly every day for the last four months, she had only sat down to chat with me twice before, and both of those times it was about something I'd been reading. Today, although I had a book in my pocket, I was just scrolling through my phone.

"Hey Dan!" Her tone was cheery as she greeted me, but there was something different about her expression. I couldn't quite place it yet. She looked at me directly in the eyes, looking a little more deeply than a person normally would, really looking. "Did you know you have really kind eyes?"

"Huh. Funny you should mention that. That's what my wife said to me on our first date."

She smiled. "Smart lady. She knew. She could see it. You try to come off all crusty sometimes but it's there. I bet she fell for you right away, didn't she?"

"Oh I don't know. She wouldn't even kiss me until the 4th date, but I think we both felt right away that there might be something there."

"I bet she knew. I'd really like to hear about her if you'd be willing to tell me more."

This was definitely out of the ordinary. Like I said, we had never really gotten personal, although she did know I was a widower. I liked her. She probably knew I liked her. And I felt like, at least as a crusty but basically kind regular customer, she enjoyed me too. "Sure. I could tell you about her sometime."

"Good. I'd like that." She smiled very sweetly. Sweet and sincere was not her usual. She usually had her wisecracking guard up. She was silent for a moment, then she spoke again. "You know today is Valentine's Day."

"Yeah. All the little heart decorations kind of gave it away." She let that comment pass.

"Well since it's Valentine's Day, I'd really like to hear a love story. Do you think you might want to tell me tonight?...if you're not busy, of course."

"No. I'm not busy. But what about you? A beautiful girl like you? It's hard to believe you don't have better plans than to spend your evening with a broken down wreck like me."

"Oh stop it! You don't look that old! You look healthy as a horse, even with all the coffee and pastries you eat! I bet you walk every day too, don't you?"

"Yeah, on the days I don't play golf, I try to."

"See! A distinguished gentleman such as yourself, a silver fox even, would look perfectly at home escorting a younger lady for an evening out."

Flattery was helping. I think she could tell she had me on the hook. "OK. That's laying it on a little thick. But if you're asking, I'd love to take you out to dinner this evening, of course I would be happy to, anyplace you want, but I'm guessing it might be a little tough to get reservations tonight with such short notice."

"That's where we're in luck. That's no problem at all. You see, I happen to have reservations for 7:30 tonight at Botticelli's." Botticelli's was possibly the nicest Italian place in our little town.

"Swanky! But are you sure there's not some hot young guy, or even a girlfriend, that you don't want to take instead? A place like that is mostly wasted on me. You don't have to ply me with expensive wine to get me to talk. I like talking to you, Suzanne. I'd talk to you over fish-n-chips at Sailor Joe's."

She laughed. "OK here's my sad story: The truth is I got these reservations a couple weeks ago for me and my boyfriend, but he broke up with me two days ago. It hadn't been going great between us, but I wanted to do something to maybe get things back on track, you know? Then he broke up with me. I'm pretty sure he did it right before Valentine's Day just so he wouldn't have to buy me a gift, the chickenshit."

"Suzanne, that's terrible. Fuck that guy. He's an idiot. But if you want to go, I am happy to take you. I'm glad you have reservations, but I'm buying, and I won't take no for an answer, OK?"

"You're sweet, Dan, but you don't have to do that. Maybe split the check?"

"I don't know what they're paying you here, and I'm not Jeff Bezos, but trust me, I can cover dinner with probably my favorite person in this whole damn place."

"Probably...?" She gave me a good-natured, quizzical smile.

"Well...Charlie's pretty cute." I mentioned the tall floppy-haired kid with glasses that was covering the counter while Suzanne talked with me.

"Well...yeah...he is kind of cute...but Dan...he's gay."

"Dammit! OK. You're on."

Suzanne had to get back to work, but we agreed I would pick her up at 7:00. She gave me her address. It was a fairly low-rent apartment complex only a few blocks from the coffee shop. As I got ready I admit I had kind of mixed feelings. I hadn't really talked to anyone about Brenda since she died. I wasn't sure how comfortable I'd be talking about her, but I liked Suzanne. I liked talking to Suzanne.

I knew getting dressed up wasn't required for most places any more, even a nice place like Botticelli's. But I wore my best, crisp blue dress,shirt, no tie, and a sportcoat. I hadn't even worn a sportcoat in a couple years but I felt like I needed to play the part of distinguished older gentleman, or at least a reasonable facsimile. It was Valentine's Day and Suzanne wanted to hear a love story. I tried to go over some memories in my head thinking about what I might tell her. They were happy memories. I was pretty sure I could get through it without crying. She didn't want me to cry, did she? Oh well. Even if I cried, that would probably be OK. I was too old to really give a shit about things like that anymore.

Walking up to her apartment from the car gave me deja vu. The apartment complex was old enough it really wasn't too different from the one where Brenda had lived when I picked her up for that first date some 40 years ago. I rang the bell and Suzanne answered it. The sight of her gave me a jolt.

"Suzanne, you look absolutely stunning!"

"You like?" She did a little twirl to show it off.

"I like very much." Her blue dress matched her eyes. She had to be the classiest coffee shop waitress the world had ever seen. The dress was short and flirty, perfect for a young woman. It showed off her curves too. I couldn't see any panty lines on that perfect ass, and apparently, she had tits too to match it.

She caught me staring. "Yep. I have tits."

"Oh my God, I'm sorry. It's just..."

"Yeah, I know. The apron covers 'em up. It's OK. C'mon, let's go." She didn't seem too offended that I had leered at her briefly. I was able to behave in a suitably classy manner after that.

She didn't ask about Brenda until after we were seated for dinner. She started with "Tell me about Brenda, Dan. How did you meet?" and it went from there.

I hit all the high points and I thought I was doing a pretty good job of telling the story. Suzanne seemed to like it. She listened well. She smiled and asked a few little questions, mostly to fill in details I left out like tastes and smells and music of the time to match the things I told her about. I was feeling pretty comfortable talking to her. We talked through dinner then as we were waiting for dessert she leaned in, looking softly into my eyes. I trusted her with my story. I wasn't sure what she wanted or needed from me, but If she wanted more, I wanted to tell her enough to fill whatever need she had in asking to hear it.

"Dan, I love this story. But can you do me a favor please? I know it's personal, but it's Valentine's Day, so it's kind of a special favor. I want you to please tell me a story about a time you and Brenda made love. It doesn't have to be the first time, just a favorite memory. Please don't leave out the dirty details, either. I want to hear about the sex. I want to hear it all. I know what I'm asking is kind of crossing a line, but can you do that for me please? Pretty please? For Valentine's Day?"

The look she gave me was so sincere, it touched me. I didn't know why she needed to hear this, but I knew, from every interaction I'd had with her up until then, that she was a very unusual and special girl. I looked into her eyes and decided that, what the hell, I was going to tell her. So I did. "You said you want the dirty version? Are you sure?"

"Yes, please. Not Jane Austen. Not Harlequin Romance. I want the fucking raw version, with heavy breathing and stiff nipples, with hard cocks and dripping pussies and sweat and stink and all of that. I'm not some dainty flower, Dan, I can take it. Repressed can be hot, but especially for the mood I'm in now, raw can be hot too. Just tell it like it was. I want you to make me feel it. Give it to me as raw as you can, please."

I didn't quite know where this was coming from, but somehow it fit with the Suzanne I'd seen. She wasn't a dainty flower. She wasn't shy. She always seemed very real, earthy, very alive.

"OK Suzanne. I'm not used to talking about this stuff, not to anyone, ever, so I'm not sure how this is going to go, but for you I'll try. To be honest, the fact that it's Valentine's Day kind of tipped it for me. As it turns out I do have a very vivid memory of making love with Brenda on Valentine's Day. Nope, it wasn't our wedding night. That was great, of course, but the time I really remember was a year later on our first anniversary."

"Wait. Valentine's Day is your anniversary? You were married on Valentine's Day? Dan, you didn't tell me that!"

"Yeah, I know. I didn't want to put that on you and have that hanging over tonight. But Brenda was funny about it, though. She used to tell everyone the reason she wanted to get married on Valentine's Day was so I'd never forget our anniversary."

"Ha! And I bet you never did."

"That's right. I never did. Anyway, a big part of what made this day I'm telling you about so vivid was what led up to it. I was in the Air Force at the time. We had a small house near the base. My unit was taking part in a big training exercise in Italy. I was only gone 10 days, but that was the longest time by far we'd spent apart up until then, and as relative newlyweds, it seemed like an eternity. February 14th was my first day back. When I got home, Brenda practically ripped my clothes off first thing through the door."

The memories were flooding back now as I continued to tell the story. "She had new lingerie on under her dress, a black lace teddy with a snap in the crotch. She was so goddam sexy! She unsnapped that thing and rode me, right there on the living room floor. I had never seen her so horny. She was absolutely on fire! Needless to say, after 10 days I wasn't gonna last long, and I didn't, but I lasted long enough that she came first. It was her orgasm that triggered mine. Then she rode me to her second one while the cum dripped out of her all around my cock and I stayed hard the whole time."

Suzanne broke in when I paused, "That sounds like it was really hot, Dan. You're doing a good job. If you don't mind my asking, was she a screamer?"

"Not a screamer so much as she had these hard breaths, deep in her chest, sort of like moaning, and it would take control of her whole body, so when she came, at least when she came good and hard, there was no doubt about it."

"Did it sound kind of like this?" Suzanne made the sound, "Ooaahh! Oaaaahh! Ohhhh!"

"Ha! Yeah, that's pretty close." How did she know enough to get that sound so much like Brenda, I wondered? I continued telling my story. "Anyway, after that first one—or two in her case—we cuddled a bit laying there on the floor and then got in the shower to clean up. We washed each other off and made out. I got hard again soaping down her tits while holding her from behind and kissing her neck. She turned around and got down on her knees and let me tit-fuck her for awhile, which I absolutley loved, and then she rinsed off the soap and gave me maybe the best blowjob I ever had, looking straight into my eyes the entire time. She didn't usually like me cumming in her mouth, but that night she actually wanted it. After I blew a load in there that must have been just as big as my first one, she kind of drooled the cum back out onto my cock and rubbed it all around her face, smiling at me, before she turned into the spray to let the water wash it off. The sight was incredibly erotic. She was showing me how much she wanted me, how much she loved me, how much she wanted to please me.

You have to understand: Normally, she was very proper and ladylike. She'd been raised in the church. Her father was a minister, for God's sake, but that night she wanted to show me she could be a complete and total whore, but only for me. It was only for me. Jesus! And she wasn't just faking it or putting on a show. No, she was feeling it. The only thing she wanted was to have sex with me, and to use that to show how much she loved me. It was the way sex is supposed to be. She just wanted to make me cum, and to cum for me, and I was the same in reverse. I can still picture it in my head today when I close my eyes, and that was almost 40 years ago."

"Are you picturing it now?" Suzanne asked.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "Yes I am."

"Is your cock hard?"

I opened my eyes to look at her. I smiled. "Yes it is."

"Good."

I decided to let that remark pass, and continued the story. "After the shower we got in bed, and I did my best to ravish her, her whole body. I kissed, nibbled, tongued, tickled, stroked, and squeezed every inch of her. She must have had at least five orgasms from my tongue and my fingers. We were both insatiable. All we drank was a little water. We didn't even stop for food all night. At the end she was almost totally spent, and I was too, but it was the best kind of exhaustion. Then we had one last fuck, in missionary position, as the sun was coming up, I remember kissing and holding her and looking into her eyes, until I came hard inside her. She came too, and almost immediately we both passed out and slept for a few hours until we woke up starving.