The Reality of Reality
Some of the feedback/comments I have received on a few of my posted stories indicate how “lucky” I am, based on the experience(s) in the story. A good many of them are true, some are enhancements of what actually happened to make them more suitable for the site, and some are fantasies, pure and simple.
But to explain the nature of the true stories, I would like to explain my background a little to my readers.
I married young to a pretty girl, attractive, independent, and flirty. I challenged her when she flirted and we got serious, quickly, and married quickly. When sexual attraction is the basic foundation, in my opinion, the relationship depends on continuity, along with mutual affection and trust. In my case, one of us was happy and exclusive with foreplay and missionary and not interested in variations of any sort.
The other one of us, (guess who) felt we should broaden our sexual horizons, explore, with each other, not outside our marriage to see what other pleasures we could enjoy. Needless to say that after years of constant refusal to budge, the dam broke and we divorced, and it was for the better for the both of us, no grudges held.
The reason I explain this is because after the divorce, at age 37 I was awkward in returning to the dating scene. Blind dates and hookups from friends seemed to be women desperate to find a mate for security and to be provided for rather than for an emotional relationship.
Consequently I became bold and ever “on the hunt” for a companion; the objective was initially for sex, with an open door for future commitment and a relationship. When I say “bold” it was difficult for me because basically I’m a shy person. However, situations came along that began to make me more comfortable about getting to the point, however tactfully I could, and opportunities came about that astounded me.
Granted, I’ve been turned down, refused, insulted and even slapped when I misjudged a flirt as an opening. No harm done; her loss, is the way I accept refusal.
Example – I was in a tennis club and an avid player. There was a woman who looked about my age who played in the court next to me for two weeks. There was little small talk but one day I asked her to dinner to get acquainted and she agreed. She was one of those girls who is always tan, top to bottom, and she had a nice figure. She wasn’t gorgeous, but neither am I.
When I opened the car door for her, she flashed her legs, a very good start in my opinion because she had great legs. At dinner, we talked mostly about our backgrounds and tennis, of course. Then I brought up the issue of her tan. “You have a terrific tan; I’d love to see where the tan lines end,” I said. (Bold, right? but I said it with a soft smile.)
“I use tanning booths when I can’t get to the beach, so there are no tan lines,” she said, smiling back. A challenge for further questions, etc.? I had nothing to lose. “Now I can stop wondering and start fantasizing,” I said. (Not very clever, but I had to say something.)
Then she picked up her glass of wine to sip it, winked at me and said, “Maybe if you buy me dessert you won’t have to fantasize tonight.” Bingo! And she did have an even tan on every inch of her body.
Sometimes things work differently for me, and not always, but I’m open for ideas anytime.
Example – I lived in an exclusive apartment complex and I advertised on the communications board that I wanted someone to play tennis. I got two answers; one was a pilot for Southwest Airlines, and he and I played regularly and were evenly matched.
The other was a girl, slightly taller than me, who was a paralegal. She told me over the phone that she was a 4.0 and wanted somebody who could keep up with her. She sounded a little arrogant but I told her I was a very strong 3.5 and I would give her a good workout. When we were walking to the courts the next Saturday morning, she had a tennis bag containing her racket and gear. I carried just my racket and I had two containers of (new) tennis balls tucked under my arm.
We put our gear down and began stretching. She wasn’t much in the tits department for a big girl, but she had killer thighs. (I love the ladies’ tennis outfits!) I was bent over stretching my legs when she asked, “How are your balls?” Being the smart ass that I am, I answered, “They’re a little full right now but I hope to rectify that tonight if I get lucky.”
It took a minute, a long, scary moment when I thought I might get a tennis racket across the back of my head but she was smiling when I looked up. Whew!
“Are you always horny when you play tennis or do you only play tennis when you’re horny?” she asked, going over to her side of the net.
“Pretty girls in short skirts with great legs just seem to bring out the worst in me, I guess. I apologize for being so brash,” I offered.
“Apology accepted; now if you can keep your mind on the ball and not my legs, show me what you’ve got.”
We played vigorously, and she beat me 6 to 4 on the first set. I was moving her all over the court and she was sweating worse than me, and I was down 2 games to 1 when she came to the net. “I’ve had a good workout and I’d rather quit while I’m ahead, if you don’t mind?”
“Not all; I thoroughly enjoyed it.” I replied.
“Thanks. Want to take a shower and have some lunch?” she asked.
I jumped right in, “Sure; my place or yours?”
“You’re not pushy are you?” she asked with a knowing grin. I think she liked me at that point.
“Watching those legs and the way your put your sexy ass behind your forehand impressed me, so I’d like to see more of you, in or out of the shower; lunch is on me.”
“You’re on, and thanks for giving me your best; you have a great backhand.”
“Thanks, but both my hand work pretty good when I get going,” I answered. I was on a roll, or so I thought. Showers were at our separate apartments. Oh, well.
We had lunch at a local bistro, she ordered salad and tea so I did too, to impress her. We had a great conversation over a long lunch, and I behaved myself, to show her that I could act normal. She invited me to dinner at her place, I accepted and two nights later, she called me and we “got together.” It turned out to be a one-time thing, but it was pretty spectacular. Attention to her tits was something she really appreciated. A lot.
I’m not always forward in initial contacts with women; it varies with the woman and the circumstances. But now and then, things “click” and good times for both of us come along. To date I have not found the perfect match, if there is one, and obviously I’m not the perfect match for some of the women I’ve dated, but I enjoy being with women for their company as much as for the sex. (You believe me, don’t you?)
So therein lies the proof that, yes, sometimes I get lucky under some circumstances and in some situations, but there are sooooo many misses along the way. No fun in recalling them.
Thanks for reading; I’d appreciate comments if you are so inclined.
© Copyright 2017 benawriter. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Erotica
Short Story / Erotica
Short Story / Erotica