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All people are aged eighteen
I was in my forties and I was convinced I’d probably spend the rest of my life alone. Both my parents had passed, and a chronic back problem which kept being aggravated by my old job and other issues led me to retire. So, I had plenty of free time on my hands. At first it was great, but then boredom set in. Then loneliness. That was the worst. Thanks to my parents’ wise investments throughout the years, I was able to live comfortably. It’s not extravagant in the least, but it is comfortable and that’s fine with me.
But the loneliness…
I’d had two real relationships in my adult life, and they were by no means lengthy ones. I came to regard the institution of marriage negatively; I thought the phrase was apropos since I felt you probably needed to be institutionalized if you wanted to be married. I saw it as an archaic tradition out of step with modern life. When my best friend got married, I thought that it was probably a mistake (and, as it turned out, the marriage was a brief one, as was the second one.) But as I got older, I began to see things differently and even began to really appreciate those couples who managed to stay together for years and years. I’d had sex with many women over the years. It was fun, but I came to realize that it was just sex. I realized that without a tangible emotional bond, sex was a just a temporary release. Of course, some ladies were more memorable than others, but when all was said and done, it was still a case of everyone getting what they wanted and thank you and good night.
I thought a relationship and a lasting marriage were not going to happen.
Thinking it might be time to look for companionship with someone near my age, I tried a dating service, but none of the three women I supposedly matched well with were good matches. Oh, they were all very nice, very attractive ladies in their thirties, but it just would not have worked out. There was no spark; there was nothing that made me say, “Yeah, her. She’s the one for me.” For various reasons, it had been close to two years since I had been with a woman. I was strongly considering dipping into an annuity account and flying to Nevada to visit a legal brothel. It may have been another temporary release, but at least it would’ve been some kind of release. I became depressed. It was like that for months. I considered myself a loner to begin with, but it got unbearable at times. I contemplated suicide and I actually did try it once and got my arm bleeding. And I said to myself, “My God, George, what in the hell are you doing?” I thought I might need stitches and concocted an excuse in case I needed to go to the hospital to prevent them from calling police or committing me. Luckily the bleeding stopped with pressure.
It’s a cliché, but every dark cloud has a silver lining. And for me, Tina was that silver lining. More than that though: I am convinced she saved my life.
A new steakhouse opened in town and I decided to check it out. And that’s where I first saw Tina. She was a waitress. Most times I went there, I was usually seated at one of her tables. Tina’s a gray-eyed, auburn-haired natural beauty who never failed to get the attention of the 15-to-50 male clientele — me included. On a few occasions, I’d even seen women check her out, too. Not that you can blame them. I also noticed that on a couple of occasions, she had to call another waitress over to serve beer or wine, a sure sign she was under 21. She was 19 as I soon learned.
One day, I guess it was perhaps my eighth or ninth time there, Tina was again waiting on my table, and we had an unfortunate meeting of the minds. She dropped her pen and I bent down to pick it up for her. Unfortunately, she also had the same idea and BAM! We knocked heads. It was actually more embarrassing than painful. I immediately apologized and asked if she was alright. She said she was.
“I guess my reputation for being hard-headed is intact, huh?” I joked, rubbing my head.
“Oh, no more than mine,” she said, grimacing and rubbing hers.
I made sure she was alright and she said she was.
“You know, I sure see you in here an awful lot,” she said.
“I live alone and I’m a horrible cook,” I replied. “And I’m sick to death of fast food.”
“I don’t blame you,” said Tina. “And I always seem to get your table. By the way, thank you for the tips and…” She hesitated.
She looked slightly embarrassed, but leaned in and quietly said, “For not trying to hit on me. You would not believe some of the guys who do it. Totally creepy. And it happens practically every day. Gawd, some guy just asked for my freaking phone number!”
Her exasperation was evident.
“You’re welcome. I was in the business off and on for twenty years. I know how rough this business can be at times.”
“Yeah. Well, it’s a job and it helps pay the bills,” she replied. “Anyway, thank you again.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. The next thing I said I immediately regretted because izmir escort I thought Tina would think it was a lame pickup line.
“Listen, try not to let those people get to you, Tina. You’re beautiful on the outside, but I’ve been here enough to learn that you’re more beautiful on the inside.”
And I began stammering trying to explain I wasn’t making a pass, but a genuine compliment.
“Aw, thank you. I know what you meant.” And she gently squeezed my hand.
Two days later, I was there again for a to-go order for a sandwich and a Coke and Tina greeted me: “You know, George, I think you must be getting infatuated with me,” she joshed. Deep down, I think I really was on some level.
“Well can you blame me?” And I grimaced. Tina laughed. I love her laugh.
“How’s your head?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s fine,” she said.
“Good,” I replied. “Say, Tina, I hope you don’t think this is inappropriate, but would you like to maybe meet when you’re off and talk? Mind you, I’m not asking you out on a date, because it’s not a date. Just friends talking. I’m not some old man trying to pick up a young girl, honestly. It’s not some cheap move; it’ll be talk only.”
And somewhere in all that, Tina said something, but I was futzing around trying to tell her I was not some pervert to hear it. My face had to have been a thousand shades of red and my stomach felt like it was in knots.
“George!” she said sharply.
“I said yes. I would love to. I get off at eight then we’ve got cleanup. Maybe 8:30 or 8:40. Why don’t we meet at the UDF and have a milkshake?”
“Um, yeah,” I said stunned. “Sounds great.”
I was halfway expecting her to not show up, but she exited the restaurant and saw me and waved and walked toward me.
“Been looking forward to this all day,” she said.
That first night, we talked about our families, our upbringings, sports, other things. It was talk only. She gave me a light kiss on the cheek as she left and said she’d like to do it again. We made a date for two nights later. We met at the UDF ten or so times over the next three weeks. We’d have milkshakes or share a banana split. Tina was intelligent, funny, and very easy to talk to. She could’ve cared less about what was popular or cool or in fashion at the moment. Like me, she was not a partier or a social butterfly. Unless it was a ballgame, neither of us was particularly fond of crowds. She gave me her cell phone number and I gave her mine. And I hoped and prayed that what I was feeling was not infatuation or me going through a mid-life crisis and that I had really found someone. Since my track record with relationships wasn’t great, it was difficult to tell. Soon, however, in the parlance of when I was her age, we were going steady. Soon, this going steady developed into a serious relationship and we began going to different places. Movies, ballgames, or just simply walking and talking. I eventually met her parents, Bob and Linda, and her older brother, Chris. Good people. I thought it was odd no one asked my age or commented that I looked older than Tina, and it bugged me for a while. And I thought that maybe because of the two decade age gap it was getting too serious too fast. One night at the UDF, I brought it up.
“Tina, look. There’s something I think we really need to talk seriously about. The last couple of months have been wonderful for me and I hope you feel the same way, but — and please don’t take this the wrong way, but…”
And usually even-tempered Tina looked at me sternly and said, “George, don’t you even dare bring up the age thing!”
She read my mind. She’s good at that.
“But what people will think?” I asked. “How many people have confused us for father and daughter already?”
“Their damn opinions don’t matter. At all!”
“But how about your family’s? Your dad, your mom, your brother?”
“They know you’re 43. I told them. Do you know why they never asked you your age? I asked them to overlook it.”
“Oh. And I’m betting they later said that maybe you should be dating someone closer to your age, huh?”
“Yeah. They did. I told them I didn’t want to be with someone around my age because…” and Tina began tearing up.
“Because I want to be with the man I love, and that they had to accept it.”
And that’s when I began tearing up. After a minute or so of hugging and trying to compose ourselves, a large group of people had come into the store and most of them were glancing or pointing at us. I said, “Ah, we’re making a damn scene.” We moved outside to the side of the building and sat on the curb. After about five minutes or so trying to get our emotions under control without the audience — and believe me, emotions were running very high — we headed for Tina’s place.
“George?” she asked.
“I have to tell you something before what’s going to happen happens.”
I took a deep breath, knowing where this alsancak escort was going. “Let’s think on this overnight, okay?”
“No! I want it to happen tonight. But I’m a virgin,” said Tina. “I’m just… ” She fell silent.
“I don’t know about this,” I said, pulling the car over.
“I do! I want it to happen, but I’ve heard horror stories about girls’ first times. My cousin had medical problems because she gave in to a guy who just rammed his thing into her. I’m scared. I do want you, but…” She buried her face in her hands and sighed.
“Is she okay now?” I asked.
“Donna? Yeah. She’s fine now. I tell you, when I began developing, my mom said, ‘Oh, you’re becoming a woman now, Tina. Just save yourself, Tina. Make the first time special, Tina.’ She spoke in a deep mocking motherly tone. “She never told me anything about this.” She was shaking.
“Oh, man,” I said. “Listen, Tina, we’re definitely both going to sleep on this. Alone. Emotional decisions are bad ones. I’ve made enough of them and they usually ended up biting me.”
Tina began to protest, but I stopped her.
“Neither one of us is ready, Tina. Do you trust me?” I asked.
“Yes! What kind of question is that?” she tearfully asked, clearly angry. I held her hand.
“Then believe me when I say neither one of us is ready right now,” I insisted. “We both need a good night’s sleep and time to get our heads together. Okay, Tina?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
I kissed her on the forehead and cradled her head against my chest to calm her.
“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you and it doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re beautiful,” I assured her. “I love you, Tina. That’s the reason it can’t happen tonight.”
She sniffed and nodded. I saw her to her door and kissed her good-night. I cringed at the thought of Tina crying herself to sleep because she thought I’d rejected her. She called the next morning and thankfully she had slept well and was in much better spirits. She said she’d be out of town until about six in the evening. Later, I went to the local drug store and purchased a tube of lubricant and hesitatingly bought a box of condoms, too. As a Catholic, I’d been taught that contraception is a no-no because in Catholic dogma, an act of intercourse must potentially lead to the creation of life.
Venial sin or not, I thought, neither of us is ready for parenthood. And since priests took a vow of celibacy, they were the least fit to judge me for using them!
Priests giving advice on relationships and marriage has been a qualm I’d had for years to begin with, and I was on the fence about its contraception position as of late. I took the side of being responsible and felt if the Church had an issue with that, too bad. I arrived at her apartment a little after six and saw Tina’s car. Her roommate Erin’s car was nowhere to be seen.
Tina answered the door in a pair of shorts and a tank top. I could see she was braless. Her perky 32 B breasts looked inviting under the cotton shirt. She was nervous, but clearly in a much better frame of mind.
“Feeling better?” I asked as we hugged and kissed.
“Yeah, lots! Sorry about last night,” she said sheepishly. “I was just…”
I shook my head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, Tina. Where’s Erin?” I asked.
“Overnighting with a sick friend. She’ll be back tomorrow evening. Sooooo, that means we have the place all to ourselves,” she said, playfully punctuating it with a light poke to the chest. “I’ve been waiting all day. Let’s go!” She grabbed my hand and tried to pull me with her.
“Whoa, whoa, Tina! Take a deep breath, girl. Deep breath!” I said, laughing at her enthusiasm. “This’ll help a lot, okay?” as I brought out the tube of lubricant. “Now since…” I looked up and Tina’s eyes were wide open in horror almost.
“Oh, no! I know what they use that stuff for! No! Not yet! Maybe not ever! Are you freaking kidding me?” she said, holding her beautiful backside and backing up. “What?” I asked and realized what she was talking about. “No! No! It’s a lubricant, Tina. It’s got a lot of other uses besides that one.”
She looked relieved. “Oh, yeah. I’m a little nervous that’s all,” she said.
I had to remember that Tina was still technically a teenage girl no matter how mature she acted or tried to act.
“I’d be more concerned if you weren’t,” I said. “All this’ll do will help make entering your, I mean you…”
“My pussy? Come on, George. It’s alright to use the word around me. I’m no prude,” she insisted.
“No, you’re certainly not. Okay, your pussy then. Anyway, It’ll make it smoother and a lot less painful. But you, young lady, need to be patient.”
She modded and quickly inhaled and exhaled. “Okay?”
I drew her close and kissed her and lightly cupped her breasts and squeezed her backside. She moaned lightly and rubbed against me. “Oh, boy did you ever develop nicely!”
“Last night. You talked about buca escort your mom giving you that speech when you began developing. Oh, you developed alright!”
“Oh,” she said. We were down to our birthday suits in no time. She reached down and began stroking me. I was at near full erection in her soft tiny hand in seconds. We made our way to her bed and I laid her down. Then she surprised me when she started to give me a blowjob.
“Oh, come on, Tina! You don’t have to do that,” I said, pushing her head away.
“I want to. Or at least try to again,” she said.
“You gave a guy a blowjob before?” I asked skeptically.
“Yeah! Once. Um, okay, actually I gagged so much I about heaved. The guy took off when I wouldn’t put out. Total loser,” she said. “But I’ve seen women do it in movies. They enjoy it, so…?”
“Well, newsflash: You did it wrong,” I said. She gave me an “oh, really?” look. Okay, come here, you little pervert.” She giggled.
“Sit down and hold my dick and just go up and down it gently with your tongue.” She complied. “Now put your mouth over the head.” I felt her tongue rubbing the underside of the head. “No, no. No tongue yet, Tina. You don’t want to make an old man shoot his load too soon.” Tina snickered, but kept her lips around me.
“You comfortable with that?” I asked a moment later.
“Okay, take a little more of it into your mouth. Slowly. Keep your lips closed around it. Go as deep as you feel you can. If you feel a gag coming on, back off.”
Tina got about half of it in and only gagged a couple of times. She began using her tongue correctly without me telling her and soon she had me going crazy. And she was furiously working herself, too. She was getting into this! I about fell over at one point and braced myself on the bedpost. “Ohhhh, good girl!” was all I could say.
A few minutes she pulled off and breathlessly said, “Ohmigod, I can’t believe I’m giving a real blowjob! I like it! Oh, ick!”
“I’m slobbering like crazy!” She grabbed a few tissues and cleaned herself.
“It’s not a big deal. We’ll work on it. If you have too much saliva going in your mouth, just stop and swallow it.” She went back to work and actually got well over half of it in her mouth but couldn’t go further. I looked down and saw a big damp spot under her pussy. “Good Lord, look how wet you are!” And I reached down and began stroking it. She made an “eek!” sound and tensed up. I also discovered she had no hymen. I didn’t broach the subject until later. She said it had had been torn about five years earlier during a practice for a gymnastics competition and the doctor had said it would disappear in time.
“Oh, wow!” she said in a breathy voice. “Oh, wow! I’m feeling really good right now.”
“You be feeling better in a sec, Tina. I pulled away from her and laid on the bed. “Alright, lie down on me the other way and straddle that beautiful little pussy above my face, and lean forward and just do what you’ve been doing. Don’t make me come!”
You could not miss the increasingly thick scent in the air. I chuckled at the thought of Erin’s reaction when she returned home and went into the bedroom and breathed in.
“What’s so funny?” asked Tina, looking back.
“Erin. She’s going to take one sniff of this bedroom and know exactly what happened.”
“Nah,” she said.
“Come on, Tina, the woman’s no fool.”
“We’ll need lots of it,” I said as I spread her open. After one lick on her clit, she stiffened and moaned loudly. Tina was soon rocking her hips and moaning in ecstasy. At one point, she stopped blowing and groaned and screamed as she orgasmed. “OH FUUUUUUCK!”
About five minutes later, Tina demanded, “Alright, fuck me now! Fuck me now, George!” as she hopped off me. She was breathing hard and sweating. I opened one of the packets of condoms and had Tina put it on me, then grabbed the lube and applied a liberal amount to my dick and in her pussy and positioned myself at her entrance, rubbing her with it.
“Uh, huh…” she nodded. She began crying.
“Hey, no need for those,” I said and wiped them away.
“I trust you,” she said, smiling.
Since her hymen was completely gone, there was little worry of bleeding. But as tight as she was, it was going to take time and a lot of lube. She gritted her teeth as I exerted some force and slid partly in her.
“Oh!” she suddenly blurted and stiffened. Then she smiled. “Hey, that didn’t hurt!” She began crying. I suspected it was more out of relief than anything.
Tina was unbelievably tight. I rested to give her the chance to get used to the new sensation.
“Like it?” I finally asked?
“Oh, yeah!” she nodded. I kissed her, and told her I loved her.
She gasped and moaned as I slowly filled her. She was contracting hard. I was finally able to get it all in without coming. As I went in and out, Tina would whimper on occasion. Although she said she was a little sore, it wasn’t bad. I added another dab of lube. I went a little faster while rubbing her clit. Then the soreness was soon replaced by grunts and groans of pure sexual pleasure. Tina learned to control her contractions. Several minutes later: “Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Oh my Gawwwwwwd!”
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