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This is a Valentine’s Day contest story. Please give me the support of your vote.
For those looking to read pornography, I don’t write pornography. This is not pornographic. I write erotica. There’s plenty of sex at the end while still being erotic.
There are no underage characters in this story. The three characters in the story are Brad, forty-something, Ann, sixty-something, and Christopher, seventy-years-old.
Her Valentine’s gift to her boyfriend, Ann transforms herself from a senior citizen to a sexy diva.
Ann stood on the front porch with her hand poised on the front doorknob. Even though her feet and legs hurt from walking in her new spiked, high heels, daring herself to sit and rest for a minute, she looked at the rocking chairs sitting idly on her porch with defiance. Her boyfriend, Chris, bought the chairs and, even though he enjoys sitting and rocking on the front porch while drinking his coffee, she refuses to use one. Rocking in a rocking chair would make her feel as old as she is. Rocking in a rocking chair would be giving up her quest to feel and look younger. Rocking in a rocking chair is for old people and not for her. She’s not ready to spend the rest of her life rocking in a rocking chair.
Just another day, with no one knowing but her boyfriend that it was her birthday Monday, it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Somehow with her birthday two days after Valentine’s Day, as if her birthday fell on Christmas, she always felt cheated in receiving joint Valentine’s Day and birthday gifts that translated to receiving less gifts. Suffice to say that she loved receiving gifts. Suffice to say, even at her age, she still loved receiving attention from men.
“Happy Birthday to me,” she said out loud while dreading another birthday and wondering how many more birthdays that the good Lord would deem to give her.
A necessary evil, she hated birthdays. If she could make God one special request, she wished he’d never allow her to age past 35-years-old. A time when she looked her best and felt her best, with her having plenty of enough experience with men, she was old enough to tell a quality gentleman from a lowlife fool. Only, with that ship having already left the dock and sailed, after more than thirty years passed her 35th birthday, every year God plays this joke on her by giving her another birthday. Certainly it would be worse if the good Lord didn’t give her anymore birthdays. Better that she’s alive albeit older than dead. She’s been to enough wakes and funerals to know that she’d much rather be living above ground than being dead beneath ground.
A last minute, split decision, when suddenly riddled with apprehension and indecision, she removed her hand from the doorknob. Deciding not to go in her house just yet, she needed to breathe in the night air and to look up at the moon and the stars for her to center herself by taking stock in herself and realizing the important things in life. Too stubborn to give in, instead of sitting in one of the rocking chairs, she leaned against the front porch post. With her struggling with another birthday that made her feel older, her private way to make herself feel better, she needed to take a personal inventory of herself and count her blessings.
For years, a good chunk of her younger and middle-aged life, was filled with men, sex, and all things sexual. Seemingly the most important things in her life were sex and orgasms. An ex-swinger, with her bedding hundreds of men, she played out that outrageous, sexual chapter in her life for all that it was worth. Now with that part of her life over, her life was suddenly becoming more mundane, routine, and boring. Instead of her life being fast and exciting, every day was the same old thing. Every day was going to work and coming home but now that she’s retired, she carries the stigma of being retired, just another label given to her and that she carries for being old. Now that she’s retired, her life is even more mundane, routine, and boring. The only thing that keeps her sane is going to the gym to exercise. The only thing that now keeps her sexually interested is when seeing, flirting with, and teasing her personal trainer, Brad.
“Brad, Brad, Brad, Brad, Brad.”
His name is Brad. When he told her his name, she couldn’t believe his name is Brad. A longtime admirer of Brad Pitt, her personal trainer even looks a little like Brad Pitt, when she sees him from across the huge gym while squinting. Certainly, he looks, sounds like, and walks just like Brad Pitt when he visits her in her dreams and sexual fantasies.
With her and her boyfriend ex-swingers, if only her neighbors knew what went on behind her closed, bedroom doors, wouldn’t they be shocked. Only, a rule that she had adhered to with Chris, when they were in the swinging lifestyle, they never invited their swinging friends home. When they were in the swinging lifestyle, no one knew they had sex with others. They enjoyed Ankara escort them at hotel, swingers’ parties and at swinging house parties. Now, for the first time, she broke her rule, she invited Brad home without telling Chris. Not that Brad was a swinger but her intention was to have swinging sex with Brad while Christopher watched.
With tomorrow Valentine’s Day, being true to herself by totally transforming herself, the way she looked now was her surprise Valentine’s Day gift to her boyfriend. Yet, unable to face Chris’ barrage of interrogating questions just yet, especially after she told him that she invited Brad to their home, she needed a minute to herself. She took a breath to calm herself and to relax before sashaying her sexy, shapely ass inside.
Not giving him much notice, now she wished she had called Chris earlier to tell him that she had invited Brad over for some hopeful erotic fun and sexy games tonight. A bittersweet moment, excited about entertaining Brad before, she was self-conscious that she was acting foolish in inviting him now. It’s not like her to be unconfidently scared about her sexuality and about men not wanting her sexually. In the way she looked in her heyday, being rejected sexually was never something she ever thought would happen. Now that she’s older, she’s more realistic of her sexual attraction, actually her lack of sexual attraction to men.
Had it not been for Chris pressuring her, she may have not viewed Brad as a sexual candidate. Who is she kidding? If Chris hadn’t suggested that she get together with Brad, she probably would have had sex with him behind Chris’ back at the gym or in his car. Chris confessed that he wants to watch her having sex with a younger man. Too late to cancel now and with Brad on his way over, she wondered what Chris would say about her inviting another man, a much younger man in their home, in their bed, and in their life. Even though he was the one who suggested that she extend the invitation to Brad, she now wondered if it wasn’t more than just sexual sparked, pillow talk in a weak, sexy, and horny moment.
Sexually excited thinking how she always sexually teased Brad at the health club, she thought about how she flashed her panties, her cleavage, and her bra to four, horny, young men on the train ride home. Coming down from those sexually exciting episodes of teasing, flashing, exhibitionism, and voyeurism, she needed a moment to collect herself. She needed a moment to decompress and calm herself from the sexual high that she was experiencing to accept the sexual low she was about to have and relegated to have with old age. For sure, even though she loved him to pieces, something she’d never say to him, nothing made her feel older than going home to Christopher.
With him taking up residence in her mind all day, she needed a moment to take the time to evict Brad from her horny head and from her sexually charged thoughts. She needed a minute to act more her age after playing the sexy diva at the health club and on the train ride home. Instead of thinking of Brad and a host of other sexually perceived admirers, she needed to make room for Christopher again in her thoughts. She needed to temper her sexuality with a slice of maturity and a dose of sanity. With her now sixty-something, she’s not thirty-something anymore.
Growing weary of having two different types of conversations, one flirtatious and sexy with Brad and the other about aches, pains, and everyday mundane life with Chris, she needed to get back in her girlfriend role after being in her swinging MILF role all day. Feeling so very young when flirting with Brad, she suddenly felt so very old when going home to Christopher. Having a difficult time transitioning from her youth to old age, she had one foot in the past and her other foot in the present. With one man making her feel younger and the other man making her feel older, obviously to make her transition into old age easier, she needed to have both men in her life.
Nonetheless how differently she felt about the two men, just as she was excited for Brad to see the new her, she was unnerved by Christopher’s anticipated reaction to her new look too. Feeling her blood pressure rising and her pulse racing, now that she was standing on the front porch ready to go inside, he may not want her to be with Brad sexually. He may not like how she’s dressed, how she looked, and why she invited Brad without telling him. She took a big breath to relax. Being that Monday was her birthday and tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, looking forward to a weekend of celebration that extended to Monday, she didn’t want an anticipated argument with Christopher to ruin her day and the rest of their weekend together.
Thinking back just a few, short hours ago, when she looked at herself in the full length mirror at the clothing store, as if seeing herself thirty years ago, she had a flashback of how sexually appealing she used to look. Not that long ago, yet, seemingly, Ankara escort bayan thirty years, twenty years, and even ten years was such a lifetime ago. A depressing thought, now just making it through her days, marking them on her calendar and appreciating every day that she opened her eyes, she couldn’t even remember what she did five years ago. In the way that Captain Hook heard the ticking clock of time in the crocodile that ate his hand in Peter Pan, she hears that same ticking clock in her head ticking down the years, the months, the weeks, the minutes, and the seconds that she has left to live.
‘Tick, tick, tick, tick. Tick, tick, tick, tick. Tick, tick, tick, tick.’
Thinking that she looked as sexy as she felt when buying these clothes in the store and wearing them home, now feeling more her age that she was about to face Christopher instead of showing herself off to Brad, she felt ridiculous. Hating to admit it, she felt like an old whore desperately trying to hold on to her youth instead of a feeling like the sexy MILF she once was and the sexy diva she still thinks she is. While dressed in a costume for Halloween and pretending to be someone she’s not, someone she once was but no longer is, she felt like the elderly woman that she is now.
Suddenly, in the way that an older man buys a red convertible and wears a toupee that everyone knows is a hairpiece, she felt foolish. She felt sad. Instead of feeling good about herself, she felt bad about herself. Instead of feeling good about herself, she felt ridiculous. She felt pathetic in her impossible attempt in trying to hold onto her youth. She felt how aging celebrities must feel when surrounded by young, empty headed, and dimwitted starlets. Suddenly, in the way that an older man looks at and flirts with younger women, she silently chastised herself for gravitating more to younger men than she did to men more her age.
‘Shame on me for trying to be someone I no longer am. Shame on me for trying to be someone I’m not. I need to act more my age. I need to accept that I’m not a young woman anymore,’ she thought to herself while taking the time to clear her had of such foolishness. ‘Sadly, sex is for the young and no longer for me.’
Quite simply and not surprisingly, with her not aging gracefully, where younger men made her feel younger, older men made her feel older. A different mindset, she always thought of herself as younger on the inside instead of older on the outside. With all of her thoughts more physical and more emotional than cerebral, with hiking, jogging, swimming, and cycling, her lifestyle has always been more active than passive. Part of her problem of not aging gracefully without a fight, no one who didn’t know her age, would ever think that she was sixty-something instead of forty-something.
As if spitting in the wind in her defiance of growing old, there was no magic pill she could take to reverse age or even slow down the aging process. If only she knew back then what she knows now about diet and exercise, perhaps she would have gotten a few more years and a few less wrinkles out of this old body. To her benefit, she never smoked and other than socially with an occasional glass of wine, she didn’t drink. Always getting her beauty sleep, she didn’t burn the candle at both ends either.
With her always watching her diet and exercising, she still maintained the shapely figure that she had thirty years ago, albeit not as firm and wrinkle free as she was at that age. Still, she looked much better than all of her friends who popped over the counter, pain pills, walked with canes, didn’t exercise, were overweight, and resigned themselves to disappearing for months at a time in their homes during the cold weather. Moreover, with most of her friends losing their teeth to gum disease and tooth decay at an early age, at least still had all of her teeth.
Yet, a no win contest and not getting out alive, she struggled in a losing battle against the ravages of time. No matter how much makeup she wore, how much dye she put in her hair, how tight and low cut her blouse was, and how short her skirt is, the fact remained that she’s still a sixty-something-year-old woman. The fact remains that she’s closer to seventy-years-old than she’s closer to sixty-years-old. The fact remains is that she has less time on God’s, good earth than more. Thirty years past her prime, maybe it’s time she acted more her age. Thirty years past her prime, maybe it’s time she relinquished her role as a sexy diva for one more befitting her age as a retired, albeit still sexy grandmother.
As if she had an internal expiration date as to when she needed to start acting her age, with her extending the expiration date each year, sadly, there’s no changing that reality. Yet, not yet ready to go over the hill and disappear down the slide of old age without a fight, she wanted to have one, last, sexual affair with a man young enough to be her son. How hot would Escort Ankara that be to feel one more, hard cock in her hand, in her mouth, and in her pussy before she gave in to old age?
With her dressing as young as she felt and with her berating herself in her need to act more her age, she knew that she was just forestalling the inevitable. Forsaking her longtime friends her age for new and younger friends, where her older friends made her feel older, her younger friends made her feel younger. Yet, before she has hip problems and can no longer fuck, knee problems and can no longer suck, back problems and can no longer make love, and/or can no longer get wet without artificial lubrication, why not have one, last sexual affair? Why not go out screaming in bed instead of rocking in a chair?
If having sex with a younger man would make her feel younger, a magic pill of mutual admiration and adoration that she obviously needs to have, as long as he’s willing, why not have sex with Brad? Why not have sex with Brad while calling his name and while pretending that he’s Brad Pitt? With cuckolding his favorite sort of pillow talk lately, Chris is the one who not only suggested she invite Brad to their house but also pressured her to seduce him while he watched, of course. A possible win/win/win sexual scenario for all three, her having sex with a younger man, Brad having sex with an older woman, and Chris watching, why not take advantage of the opportunity?
As long as Brad is willing to be sexually seduced by her, why not have sex with a younger man albeit with Chris watching? Her way to not only still keep Chris involved with the swinging lifestyle by whetting and satisfying his sexual appetite in watching but also to give her what she wants and needs sounded good to her. As long as they don’t hurt anyone and/or harm themselves, with what they do behind closed, bedroom doors it’s no one’s business.
Not yet ready to walk with a cane or put a handicap sticker on her car, she still works out at the gym. With the health club filled with young people instead of old people, she’d rather go to the gym any day over sitting serenely at the senior center. As if just waiting to die, instead of looking forward to their futures and their new lovers, so many elderly people sit there watching TV and/or playing cards while talking about their past and their grandchildren.
So many elderly people talk more about their aches, pains, and maladies, along with what drugs they take instead of talking about how better to sexually enjoy the time they have left. So many elderly people, those people over 50-years-old, according to AARP, 55-years-old, according to HUD, housing and urban development, and 62 to 65-years-old, according to Social Security, no longer have sex. A fear much worse than death and dying, the thought of no longer having sex frightened her as much as it sickened her. A mean trick that God played on swingers, she couldn’t imagine life without giving and receiving orgasms.
It was the time she had now that made her try to act as young on the outside as she felt on the inside. Interestingly enough, on the inside, she still felt 35-years-old. On the inside, even though she was much older, she still felt much younger. On the inside, she still felt as young, as sexy, and as vibrant as she felt thirty years ago.
As if testing the sexual waters to see if flashing men still made her as wet as public exhibitionism always did, she gave those two men sitting across from her on the train ride home quite the up skirt show of her bright, white panties. Going all the way with her exhibitionism for the sake of their voyeurism, she gave the two men standing over her quite the down blouse views of the tops of her abundant breasts, her long line of cleavage, and her sexy, low cut bra. Obviously with her acting as if she didn’t know she was showing while pretending that she didn’t notice them looking, exhibitionism and voyeurism made her feel sexually alive again that all four men were not just looking but also leering, staring, and ogling all that she was showing. Flashing them made her feel sexy again that four men half her age were sexually interested in an old broad like her. While lost in the moment, if only for a while, her flashing and with them looking made her feel young and sexy again.
With her flashing men again, shades of what it was like twenty years ago, her exhibitionism and their voyeurism invigorated a newfound sexuality. Suddenly, instead of being doomed to go quietly in the night in old age, she felt alive again. Playing her role as the beautiful, black woman, when she felt that familiar wetness between her thighs and felt her nipples erecting and hardening to show their big impressions through her bra and blouse, she felt sexually vibrant again. As long as men were looking, staring, and leering, whenever she was flashing her panties, her cleavage, and her bra, the one thing she didn’t feel was old. Whenever she was flashing her panties, cleavage, and bra, instead of being ignored on the train in the way that most elderly people are, she not only felt noticed but also she enjoyed the attention that she received from men, no matter what their age.
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