American Backroads

 

Magic Circle

31 December 2014

IF YOU THINK ALL THE SEX adventures would start as soon as we camped in a nudist area, you really don’t understand naturism. The one thing above all about nudist resorts and naturists is that it isn’t about sex. That’s especially true about an encampment like Quartzsite’s Magic Circle.

When you think about who can take off for the winter, or even a couple of weeks, to camp out and enjoy the mild weather of western Arizona, you have to come to the immediate conclusion of retirees. Quartzsite is the boondocking capital of the world, meaning that if you have an RV that is self-contained, you can camp for as little as $40 for two weeks or $180 for six months. The rule on the BLM lands is not to camp closer than 50 feet from someone else unless you are camping with them. The population in the Quartzsite area swells from a normal 2,800 or so to well over 200,000 in January when the various RV festivals, swap meets, pow wows, and rock hound shows commence.

Occasionally, I’ve been witness to an influx of young people at a resort over a weekend in the summer, but most of the men and women who are skin to the wind for an extended period are over sixty and overweight.

I was acutely aware, however, that Alice would be a naked nineteen-year-old goddess. No one would overtly stare at her, but she would be such a surprise to the denizens that they wouldn’t be able to help taking a second look. I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. After I’d backed the trailer into the spot we cornered for ourselves and parked the truck just far enough over that we could move it for Cassie and Andy, I took Alice inside to have a talk. We’d seen plenty of naked people wandering around. It was nearly seventy degrees and they were all enjoying the sun.

“This is it, isn’t it?” she said. “Are you going to get me naked now?”

“Doll, you know I love you naked. This is different, though,” I said.

“I know. Nudity isn’t about sex. I can still lust after you, though, can’t I?”

“I hope so.” I kissed her and helped her out of her clothes. Like usual, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Those touches weren’t necessarily sexual, but we liked to touch each other. I held her and stroked from her shoulder to her butt and just squeezed her against me. “But you are nineteen years old and the most beautiful woman within a hundred miles. Even as respectful as people will try to be, they will notice.”

“That’s kind of freaky.”

“That’s why I bought you a little present. Don’t get too excited, I bought one for Cassie, too. I’m betting she’ll have second thoughts about the time she steps out of her motorhome.” I handed her a huge square of cloth.

“What is it?”

“It’s called a pareu. They are very popular in both nudist resorts and as beach wear. Not only does it cover your tits, it can keep you warm when we’re waiting for the sun to heat things up.” I demonstrated by wrapping the fabric behind her back and under her arms, then tying it loosely behind her neck.

“Um… Ari, let me get this straight. This just hangs down and covers my tits, right?”

“Yes, love.”

“But it doesn’t cover my pussy,” she said. I laughed.

“Now why would I ever want to cover this?” I asked, stroking up the length of her slit.

“But that kind of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

“Honey, look in the mirror. What do you see?”

“This very pretty fabric—which also feels luscious, by the way—drops from my shoulders to my knees. In the middle is my little slit.”

“Yes. How does your little slit compare in this view to any other little slit you might just happen to see?”

“Pretty much the same, I guess. It’s just a little line that goes down between my thighs.”

“And unless a guy is between your thighs looking up at it—like I was the other night—he can’t really see anything of interest. But look at this,” I said. I stood behind her and pulled the fabric back so her breasts were fully exposed.

“God! I feel so naked when you do that!”

“Of course. There is nothing about the front view of your shaved pussy that distinguishes it from any other pussy out there. But these are definitely nineteen-year-old breasts with perky hard nipples. I can’t look at them without wanting to run my hands over them. I want to hold them and lick them. Do you see what I mean?”

“You mean that guys could look at my pussy all day long and not get aroused, but would want to touch my breasts? Are they freaky here?”

“No, honey. There isn’t a soul in the Magic Circle who would make an inappropriate pass at you. If there was a freak here, he’d get banned. He’d lose his membership in the association and would probably be refused admittance to most of the nudist resorts in the country. Nudist areas are probably the safest places for women in the country. It’s all about how comfortable you feel. The only thing that really differentiates you from any other woman in the campground is that your nipples point up and theirs point down.”

“Why do I bother to take my G-string off in the club? All-nude is a waste of time!” she said.

“Except that in the club, guys don’t just see this view. They all sit there waiting for you to lean back and spread your legs. There is nothing from this angle for them to see. I told you about the club in Massachusetts, didn’t I?” I said.

“That was so weird. But I see your point. You have a point here, don’t you?” she asked while reaching behind her to stroke my cock. Looking at her in the mirror as I pulled back the fabric had definitely had an effect. I sighed and kissed her shoulders.

“You know I do,” I said. “There’s a little card here that shows a dozen different ways to tie the pareu.” I untied it and crossed the corners in front of her before retying them behind her neck. “Voila! Now you have a dress. You could wear this out to a club at night.”

“Wow!” Alice turned in my arms to face me. “I love you, Ari. This was so thoughtful, even though I know you really did it for Cassie. Are we going to have a bunch of visitors now or can we just take off our clothes and hold each other?”

“It’s pretty rare for someone you don’t know to come and knock on your door out here,” I said. “They’ll wait until they see us outside. Inside is private space.” Alice untied her pareu and draped it on the dining bench. Then she pushed me back to the bed. We didn’t make love, but just held each other as we settled into the bed. I noticed that Alice did as much petting of me as I did of her and it felt just as good. I just wanted to touch her all over and she seemed of like mind. Eventually, we fell asleep for an hour.

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Cassie and Andy arrived on New Year’s Eve. I moved my truck and Andy pulled their motorhome into the space. With our RVs facing opposite directions, our front doors faced each other. Their rig was huge, so when they extended their canopy, it went above ours and overlapped by about a foot. We had a completely sheltered area with my little gas firepit between us.

Alice had gotten used to the environment and the people around us, so she’d been casual about whether she was wearing her pareu or not. I pulled on my sweat shorts when they arrived so as not to be too blatant as I helped them set up. Cassie was gracious and absolutely gushed over Alice. That’s one thing I always appreciated about Cassie. I don’t remember her ever having an unkind word about anyone. She was simply always nice.

Alice held a quick whispered conversation with her and gave her the pareu, letting her examine how Alice had hers tied. Cassie gave my girlfriend a big hug and Andy followed her into the motorhome.

I’d planned dinner for the four of us on this first night and included a couple bottles of my favorite red wine. Trader Joe’s in Phoenix had a Grand Cru St. Émilion on sale and I’d splurged on a case. It was several steps above the box wine I usually had in the trailer. Before I went out to start cooking, Alice tugged at my sweats and pulled them off.

“I’m not sure I should…”

“She’s gonna see it sometime,” Alice said. “Might as well show her what she’s been missing.”

“You, squirrelly girl, are going to get me in trouble one day. Really, Andy might be hung like a horse. Cassie isn’t missing anything she can’t have elsewhere.”

“No. But we promised each other we’d have our men naked for dinner,” Alice laughed.

“As long as you didn’t promise you’d have your naked men for dinner,” I sighed. Well, in for a penny… I hadn’t had pants on except for this afternoon since we camped.

I went outside and lit the fire in the gas firepit and then started the grill. I’d found some time ago that I loved having a campfire. But most places I’d been over the past year had burn bans in effect. The West was in drought and no one wanted to start a wildfire. So, I picked up a gas pit at Costco. It was efficient, too. I could buy gas for a lot less than firewood.

Andy came out of his motorhome with a martini shaker, rattling the ice inside. He handed me a plastic cup and poured a liquid libation for each of us. We toasted to life on the road and took a sip of our drinks. I was going to like this guy. Dry gin, possibly Tanqueray, slightly dirty with a whisper of vermouth. Two queen olives were on a toothpick in the glass.

“How can I help?” he asked.

“Relax. Grill is hot and I’ve got steaks ready to go when the ladies say it’s time.”

“That’s what we’re always waiting for, isn’t it? Can you believe it takes women so long to get ready for dinner? I mean, all they have to do is take their clothes off. How long can it take?” We laughed. It might be Andy’s first time in a nudist park, but he seemed relaxed about it. Alice came out with the tray of steaks and tinfoil wrapped asparagus. I gave her a quick kiss. “Martini, Alice?” Andy asked as he retrieved another glass.

“No thanks, Andy. I don’t drink much. I’ll have a glass of wine with dinner.” She was wearing her pareu in the open front position and I saw Andy glance at her middle before he turned away. He went over to his chair by the fire and sat with a towel across his lap. Just then Cassie came out of the motorhome.

“Salad is ready,” she said. I turned toward her and smiled. She’d chosen to wrap fully in the pareu, but in what I decided was a Cassie style, she had it tied over one shoulder with it hanging open down her side. Andy poured her a drink and I put the steaks on the grill.

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New Year’s Eve at Quartzsite—especially at the Magic Circle—is something you have to experience to fully appreciate. We’d polished off two bottles of wine and Andy had made another big shaker of martinis. Alice was being careful and I tried not to overindulge. Cassie and Andy were out-drinking us two or three to one. At dusk the first fireworks went off. We saw several people headed to the party tent and decided to go see what was happening. I rummaged in a box of clothes in the back of the truck that I hadn’t opened in over a year and found two ties. I tossed one to Andy.

“This shindig is formal, buddy,” I said. “Have to wear a tie.”

“And nothing else?”

“And nothing else.” Alice retied her pareu so it was off one shoulder like Cassie’s and we headed to the party.

Quartzsite has quiet time from ten p.m. till eight a.m. That means all generators have to be off and no loud parties after ten. Even on New Year’s Eve. The park ranger drives through the area to make sure we are all in compliance. In the tent, there was music and dancing starting at seven. At nine-thirty, they turned on a big-screen TV and tuned in to Times Square via someone’s borrowed satellite dish. Champagne was poured all around and we had our glasses raised for a toast as the ball dropped in New York City. Then everything went dark. We’d been standing close together and it took a couple minutes for our eyes to adjust to the darkness. After I’d thoroughly kissed Alice, another set of lips found mine. It was a short but intense kiss and then a whispered, “Happy New Year, Ari.”

There was a general exodus from the party tent. There were plenty of flashlights bobbing along that were easy to follow to our campsite. I had an arm wrapped around Alice and was looking forward to settling into bed with her. There was an ‘oof’ and squeal just behind us and we turned to find Andy and Cassie on the ground. Cell phone flashes went off all around us.

“Gravity burst,” someone nearby laughed. “Happens all the time. Never know when they’ll reach out and grab you!” Alice and I helped the two to their feet and brushed the dust off them. Then we linked up and walked the rest of the way with our arms around each other. I had Alice on my left and Cassie on my right. Cass leaned over to kiss her husband and, in the process, flipped the open side of her pareu back. My hand slipped inside and I was holding naked Cassie Clinton’s ass in my hand. She used her arm to lock my hand in place as we walked the rest of the way back to our campsite. We made sure everything was secure and said goodnight.

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A Long Time Ago: Bring Your Own Party

I was single that first New Year’s Eve of my PhD program. I still had a nearly empty apartment, which was perfect for a dancing party. I didn’t have much money, so I called it a ‘bring your own cocktail’ party. So much classier than BYOB. I would have bombed the party if it hadn’t been for Rose.

I was experienced with bombed parties. The first party I threw in high school was a disaster. I’d asked eleven guys and invited them to bring their dates for the first half of the party, then come back after they took their dates home to spend the night watching movies, playing ping pong, and eating junk food. I expected all of them, but I needed a date.

I hadn’t dated much my sophomore year. Heidi and I had gone out to ballgames in the fall, but mostly, we just met up at school dances and had a group thing. I hadn’t expected to be turned down flat by ten different girls when I invited them to my party. Then Rhiannon said she’d go. I liked Rhiannon, though she was a little shy. It was just a party and I even had games selected that we could all play without getting embarrassed.

It was a week before the party when Rhiannon told me she couldn’t attend. It was beginning to do some damage to my ego.

“You should ask Patty out. She should be your date,” Rhiannon said. “Everyone would come.” My class had just over sixty kids in it. I’d asked a third of the girls to my party. Now I found out that they’d all come if I asked Patty.

Hell, no! It wasn’t that I didn’t like Patty. She was one of the more religious girls in the class and was a talented singer. We said hi to each other in the hallways or class. She might even have been number twelve on my list. But my classmates had decided who I should date. I chose not to ask anyone else. Everyone else chose not to come to my party. At midnight, Jon and Craig showed up. Their dates said they didn’t want to go to the party, so they came over after they’d taken them home. We did a pretty good job of demolishing all the food I’d put in and played round-robin ping pong until sunrise.

I didn’t date anyone from my school again until Deb and I started our project together senior year.

So, I didn’t have a great track record with parties and this New Year’s Eve would be the first time I attempted one without a wife helping organize it. I decided to not even try to find a date. I invited most of the people I knew, including several neighbors in the apartment complex. Including Rose.

I had no great expectations for the success of the party. I’d put in half a dozen bottles of cheap champagne in case there were people to toast the New Year. And I’d put in a bottle of The Glenlivet in case no one showed up and I needed something decent to drink alone. I spent most of the day cooking stuff that I figured I could freeze and eat for the first month of the New Year.

Much to my surprise, people started showing up about seven. Lots of people. It was a good thing I didn’t have any furniture because the apartment was full. I had a newly acquired stereo and a couple dozen albums. Several people not only brought their own cocktails, but music and food as well. People danced and, there being quite a few theater people, sang along with their favorites. A few people left because they were on a party circuit and had to get to the next one. Others arrived later. I was so busy acting as a host and moving food from kitchen to buffet that I wasn’t even sure I’d greeted everyone.

I was near the door at eight-thirty, though, when I heard a polite knock that might have been missed if I’d been any farther away. And at the door stood Rose.

“Happy New Year,” she said. She stood on tiptoe and kissed me on the cheek.

Rose was the type of woman who was my weakness. Of course, I guess most women were my weakness. She was short—probably only about five-one. Blonde, curly hair framed her face and accented her electric blue eyes. She was curvaceous—not a skinny little thing. She had a smile that always looked a little surprised. I looked behind her to see who her date was. No one.

When I moved into this apartment with Paula, Rose lived across the hall with her boyfriend. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of months, so maybe he was gone.

“Happy New Year, Rose! It’s so nice to see you. Welcome.” As we walked around the room toward the kitchen, I introduced her to several people, but she didn’t stick with any of them. She followed me right into the kitchen. People had stacked the kitchen counter with their bottles. I noticed that Rose hadn’t brought one. “No matter what it looks like, I don’t have a lot to offer you to drink,” I said. “Haven’t actually poured myself one yet. Can I get you a glass of scotch or champagne?”

“Just water for now. We’ll save the champagne for midnight, shall we?” she said. Well, sure we shall. Apparently, she planned to stay at this party. I poured her water and added ice from the chest by the back door.

“I’m surprised to see you alone,” I said. “Did you and Rick… er, Rich split up?” Rose’s face fell and I was afraid I’d really stepped in it. Turns out I did, but not what I thought.

“I thought… You mean… Oh, god! I’m so embarrassed. Let me introduce you to Miss Social Grace. I suppose you have a girlfriend here. I should leave.”

“Wait! What?” There was the sparkle of a tear in her eye.

“Rich and I split months ago. I thought you… Well, when I saw how many people had already arrived, I figured you just couldn’t get away to pick me up. Then I figured I’d misunderstood and of course you couldn’t leave your own party. So, I showed up anyway.”

“Pick you up?”

“I thought you asked me as your date,” she whispered. “I’ll leave now. I’m sorry.” Was it really that easy to have asked her out?

“Rose, please don’t go. I… I love the misunderstanding. Will you be my date tonight, even though I’m a little late making it explicit? I’ve been single for about six months and was inviting people to a party just so I didn’t have to sit alone on New Year’s Eve. If you can stand the fact that I have to keep running from kitchen to buffet with food and talking to a bunch of people, I’d really like to be your date,” I said.

“You’re just feeling sorry for me.”

“No! The truth is, I was feeling sorry for myself.”

“Ari, are there any more of those egg rolls?” one of the guys called from the dining room. Rose looked at me and smiled. She stood on her tiptoes and gave me a kiss on the cheek again.

“Give me a tray of food and I’ll take it to the buffet,” she said.

I handed her a platter.

Somehow the rest of the party turned into a blur. A little before midnight I opened bottles of champagne and the fifteen or so of us left toasted the New Year and kissed. Rose kissed me. It was no little peck on the cheek. It was a for real, ‘you are my date’ kiss and she made sure it stuck by repeating it again five minutes later.

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“You know, they say the person you’re with when the year turns is the person you’ll be with the rest of the year,” she whispered after the last guest left. “I find that an attractive prospect.”

“I do, too. Rose, I… um… Well, not sure what’s appropriate right now. We’ve hardly gotten to know each other and I’d like to… really. But…”

“Relax, Ari. I don’t sleep with a guy on the first date. I might consider it on the second date, though. There’ll be a second, won’t there?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, fair maiden. In fact, I have a tradition that I just started today of going to a movie on New Year’s Day. Would you like to join me?”

“What? No football games? I’d love to.” We kissed again and got lost in it for several minutes. “Maybe you should walk me home now since you didn’t pick me up this evening,” she giggled. It was a short trip across the hall. She turned to me once again. “I do kiss goodnight on first dates if I really like the guy,” she said.

“Do you like me enough for a goodnight kiss?” I asked.

“I think so.”

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Back to Quartzsite

With Arizona’s strange time zone and the park’s rule about ten o’clock quiet time, Alice and I were back in the trailer by ten-thirty. She seemed restless, pacing up and down the eight-foot floor of the trailer, looking at her e-reader, making a cup of cocoa. I sat on the bed in my usual position and had my laptop open. I was just getting into finally writing El Rancho del Corazón.

“What has you disturbed tonight, honey?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just used to staying up later,” she sighed.

“Are you feeling lonely and isolated out here?”

“Yeah. A little. I guess,” she sighed. She sat on the edge of the bed and sipped from her cup. I petted her thigh next to me. She absently ran her fingers over my chest. “I love being with you and sharing your life for a while. But we really haven’t done anything and everyone is…”

“So old,” I finished for her.

“You’re not old like they are.”

“Well, thank you, but I think most of them would disagree.”

“Cassie and Andy seemed old when they got here. They don’t seem so old now. They remind me of my grandparents,” Alice said.

“Oh, they’ll love that,” I laughed. Then I got to thinking. “You know, actually, they probably would love that. Cassie has some liveliness and youth about her, but from what she was saying tonight, she loves being a grandmother. You know, every one of my sisters, even the one who is five years younger than me, is a grandmother? I’ve heard them say, ‘Oh just wait until you have grandbabies. You’ll see.’ Then I look at my little girl and I just can’t imagine it. She’s so young and fragile.”

“Does it bother you, Ari? That I’m younger than your daughter?”

That hit me like a rock. It was something I’d avoided thinking about ever since I met Alice. At the same time, I never really considered Alice that young. Not like Angie. And Angie was five years older. I looked at the tall sleek woman perched on the bed beside me.

“You don’t see me being as old as the folks around us, even though I’m the same age. I don’t see you as young as my daughter, even though you’re younger. I think we found something that equalizes our ages. But, the more we hang out with people the other person’s age, the older or younger we’ll seem to each other. We need to balance things,” I said.

“That’s it. Like last week when we had Kim with us.” Alice set her cup aside and crawled into bed to cuddle up with me. I set aside the computer and welcomed her into my arms. “Did you feel old when it was two young women with you?”

“I did, a little. I enjoyed it a lot, but I thought about how you each lived in a completely different world than I do.”

“And being out here where I’m the youngest by half makes me feel really young. It’s not just that Cassie could be my grandmother, she makes me feel like I’m just a little girl.”

“Well, I think we’ve just found some common ground. We need to get out of here and mix it up a little more,” I said.

“I don’t want to leave Quartzsite!”

“I’m not suggesting that we break camp, but there are places we can go, even as remote as this is,” I said. “Yuma, Phoenix, Lake Havasu, and Palm Springs are all within 150 miles. Let’s go to Lake Havasu City for the weekend.”

“Really? You’ll take me to see London Bridge?” she giggled.

“Anywhere you want to go, honey.”

“You know, Ari, I believe that.”

We held each other, petting and kissing. It was such an incredible sensation to just lose myself in Alice’s eyes. I understood, though, why we would never actually be together forever. We could visit each other’s worlds, but we couldn’t really live there.

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A Long Time Ago: Office Romance

I was pretending to be a brilliant technologist who understood all about the publishing industry and was plotting the future of reading. At night, I struggled to be an author. Times had changed since my first foray into office work. We’d been alerted to issues of workplace harassment, discrimination, and sexism. There were lines in the workplace that were not to be crossed.

What a difference from the real estate office I’d been in that functioned as a mating ground for just about any kind of activity!

It was whispered that one VP had cost the company a million dollars in settlements for the passes he’d made over the years. If any of us peons got caught in something like that, we’d just be dismissed.

Of course, the company continued to have disparity in pay for men and women. It continued to promote men to management positions and to hire women as administrative assistants. There was a huge diversity program that showed how the company hired from all races and genders. It only took a walk around the company campus to see the evidence of our diversity. All the groundskeepers were Latino men. All the kitchen workers were Latina women. A huge number of the engineers were Chinese and many of their managers were Indian. Most of the marketing team were white and/or European. Software design and specification came from Mediterranean countries, especially Israel, Jordan, and Egypt. And most of the admins were young, blonde women. We were diverse. I’d never seen a black person in the company, but they were scarce in the Pacific Northwest anyway.

For every problem, there is a solution. The workplace had once been a prime location for men and women to meet and develop an interest in each other. But now there was a barrier to developing anything further than a working relationship. Into the breach came an Internet solution. Office Romance.

I opened my email one typical boring Monday and found a message from an online dating service. It said simply that a co-worker was interested in me. If I was open to being approached, I should go to their website.

I wasn’t sure, but I was intrigued. I walked up and down the halls, trying to guess which of the women might have sent the message. They weren’t all secretaries, no matter what I might have led you to believe. There were a couple female programmers, marketing managers, designers, and even a couple baristas I was friendly with. I figured there were at least ten women that I could I identify whom I would be interested in getting to know better. I registered on the website, paid my membership fee, waded through all their promotional material about how I could find the love of my life in the office next door, and eventually got to my inbox. There was one message.

“I’m sorry I have to use this method to talk to you, but I’d like to get to know you better. If you are interested, maybe we could go to lunch. Colette.”

As Greg, back in the real estate company, used to say, “I’ll be go to hell.”

Colette was a fox and not one I had ever imagined would have an interest in me, a guy who was at least ten years older. At the same time, I began to piece together little hints. It was Colette who had cut through my disgust at lattés and brought me a straight espresso when I complained of not liking milk. “It’s a latté without the milk,” she’d said. After I’d fallen and cracked a rib the previous fall, she’d kindly offered to let me lean on her as a group of us were walking across the lawn to the cafeteria. She was always bright and smiling in the office, but I’d never considered her as a potential date. Wow!

“Would love to have lunch with you. Why don’t we go out for sushi on Wednesday? -Ari.” I sent the message and ten seconds later a response came in.

“Yes.”

We didn’t take the rest of the day off to go fuck.

In fact, things developed rather slowly, but we managed to have lunch off-campus together at least once a week. You couldn’t really have told that we were interested in anything deeper than any other coworkers. Though maybe our conversations were less restrained than was proper in the workplace.

“I’m never going to get promoted,” she complained one day after annual reviews.

“Why not? You’re smart. You do good work. You get along well with your coworkers—even those who don’t have lunch with you every week,” I laughed.

“Ari, you are so innocent. I’ve got these.” She put her hands firmly under her breasts and hefted them to draw my attention. Well, I’d noticed them. It was hard not to. Colette was stacked. Since she was holding them up for me, though, I took the opportunity to stare. She made a subtle gesture of pinching her nipples before she let them go and the points stayed out there for me to observe long after her hands left them.

“Um…”

“Can I have your attention up here again, Ari?” she laughed.

“Um… They are nice.” I didn’t know why I was the one blushing.

“Oh, believe me, I like them, too,” she said. “But they are a solid disqualifier for a management position. I can’t be good enough for management as long as these lead the way into a meeting.”

“Damn, Colette. Is that true?”

“Believe me. I’ve been offered positions under management.”

“Fuck.”

“I’d love to. When are we going to?”

There it was. Right out there as obvious as her nipples.

“You never take the initiative on anything, do you, Ari?” she continued. “If I wasn’t so determined, I’d have given up and put you in the friend zone a long time ago.”

“It’s a character flaw,” I sighed. “I’m always afraid I’m going to offend someone.” I dipped a California roll in wasabi and stuffed it in my mouth. It stung my eyes. I loved it. “Colette, please don’t take this as a suggestion that I want to rush you into fulfilling that little fantasy, because I was going to ask you anyway. I have tickets for the ballet Friday night. I’d love to take you.”

“Yes.”

I didn’t bother to go home after work on Friday. I stuck around the office until it was time to pick up Colette. She’d changed into a little black dress and low heels. It was low-cut and emphasized her assets. It was also short and sleeveless. I’d never seen so much of Colette exposed.

The ballet was fine. I don’t really remember what was on stage. In a remarkable feat of dexterity, Colette had tucked her feet under her in the theater seat, her knees pointed toward me. She held my hand through the performance with it resting on her exposed thigh. When we left the performance, it was cold out. Colette shivered and I took off my jacket to drape around her shoulders. She held my arm there as we walked to the parking garage.

Bucket seats aren’t conducive to intimacy while driving. As far as I’d seen, there weren’t any cars on the market these days that had a bench seat in front. My Audi was no exception. Still, Colette kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her again as she turned toward me and chatted on the drive to her apartment.

I walked her to the door and for the first time in nearly six months of seeing each other, I kissed her. She looked at me when we parted.

“Why don’t you come in for a while?” I followed her into her apartment. And saw a new side of Colette.

Actually, during the course of the night, I saw several new sides of Colette. But as soon as we got inside her apartment, her three dogs, two cats, and a bird all rushed to greet her. The fish were stuck in an aquarium, but I swear they all lined up against the glass looking at her. The cats were rubbing up against my legs as the dogs bounced around. The bird, some kind of parakeet, had landed on her shoulder. Colette turned to kiss me again and I swear the bird pecked at our lips.

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It took a few minutes to get the animals settled down before we could continue on a more interpersonal level. Colette wasted no time in getting me to her bedroom and closing the menagerie out. Most of it. She immediately bent to pick up a couple of tiny kittens from a box by the bed and coo over them.

“I’m fostering these guys until they are old enough for the shelter to put them up for adoption. Their mom was hit by a car. Isn’t that sad?”

“I take it that you rescue animals,” I said. I was overwhelmed. She’d told me she was involved with the animal shelter. She’d mentioned different rescue organizations. Why did I not expect a houseful of pets?

“Yeah. I wish I could make a living at it, but I have to work for a living so I can afford them. I talk to them. Sometimes people with problem animals call me up and I talk to their pets. You just have to listen to them. Don’t let it bother you, Ari. Unzip my dress.” As she kissed me again, I found the zipper and released her magnificent body from its narrow confines. Before I got her bra and panties off, though, she made sure I was equally exposed.

Her bed was an island in the midst of animal chaos. I managed to find the catch on her bra and the breasts that were presented for our mutual enjoyment were as spectacular as I’d imagined when she’d held them up at our favorite sushi restaurant earlier in the week. After I’d feasted there, I moved down her body for a feast between her legs. She was musky and wet. I set about discovering how to bring her arousal to fulfillment. My explorations were interrupted a couple times by a dog that needed to be told to shut up or a kitten that wanted attention, but eventually, Colette exploded with a long moan that inspired the dogs to another round of barking.

She pulled me up to face her and kissed me. Rolling me to my back, she straddled me. Her big breasts hung tantalizingly at my lips and I kissed her as she slotted me into her pussy and sank onto my cock.

“My boobs look better when they are hanging than when they are squashed flat,” she said as I tongued a nipple. “God, it’s been a long time since I had a man in me. Fuck!” With that, her gyrations mounted to a new level and I found myself spewing into her in the fulfillment of a dream.

Of course, it might have been a dream come true, but it was a dream nonetheless. I had to navigate around two litter boxes to use the toilet while Colette took three dogs out to do their business. At least they did it outside. The damn bird did it on the shoulder of my suit.

Colette returned with the dogs and we sat at her little kitchen table with a cup of tea. She scrubbed the shit off my shoulder and apologized by shoving her tits in my face while she did it. She had put on sweatpants and a T-shirt, but eschewed any other clothing. When they were unsupported, those big boobs really moved around a lot. When she’d finished cleaning my shoulder, she sat on my lap at the table, straddling my legs and facing me. I slid my hands up under her shirt to hold and squeeze her boobs while we kissed and she ground against my reviving interest.

“It isn’t going to work, is it, Ari?” she moaned. I’d moved one hand around to cup her ass as she thrust against me. “It never does. As soon as a guy sees my friends, he never comes back.” She unfastened my pants and released my cock, then shimmied out of her sweatpants. “One more time, okay?” she said.

She fucked my willing cock at the kitchen table as two cats wound around my legs and one of the dogs jumped up to sniff where we were joined. Colette moaned when I came inside her again. We stayed connected for a couple minutes as she collapsed against me and lifted her lips to be kissed again.

“Maybe you could visit my world again sometime?” she whispered.

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Back to Quartzsite

I woke up at six on New Year’s morning. It was still dark outside. The sleeping angel next to me wouldn’t be up for two more hours. I was certain she’d stayed up reading after we made love at midnight and I fell asleep. I quietly went about making coffee and filling the thermos, then grabbed my laptop and stepped outside. I lit the fire to take the chill off the air between the RVs and settled in to do some writing.

I was just starting on the excitement of getting the foundation poured out at the ranch. I’d written a whole bunch of stuff about how Brian’s parents and Anna had solved the problem and were going to replace the burned-out ranch house. But Jay’s words kept returning to me. Steal their shoes. What would they do if the parents didn’t ride to the rescue? They needed to solve their own problems. How were they going to do it?

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“Do you have more coffee?” Cassie asked as she approached. I looked up to find that she had her pareu firmly wrapped around her like a dress.

“Got a cup?” I asked. Her motorhome had an entire outdoor kitchen, so she just turned to the counter and picked up a mug. I stood up as I poured her coffee and set my computer aside.

“Sleep well?” I asked. She scowled at me.

“Hung over. Andy probably won’t be awake for at least two more hours.” We looked at each other and snorted.

“Gravity burst!” we said together. I headed back to my chair to sit companionably. When I turned around, Cassie was staring at me in a way people don’t usually stare at a nudist park.

“You’re shaved!” she said. I looked down at my cock and balls.

“Um… not quite. Just trimmed up short. If you shave, you have to shave all the time or it itches. Just trimming up the hair, it’s still soft. Cassie, why are we talking about my pubes?” I asked.

“I’m sorry! Oh! I… just noticed, is all.” She scrambled to her chair as I sat in mine. “I was rude,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Cass. You’re new at this. Bound to be questions,” I said. I tried to just relax across the fire from her and not be self-conscious. We’d done a lot of exploring the woods together when we were little, but we never explored each other. I knew she was checking me out.

“Why are you shaved… er… trimmed?” she asked. Damn! She wouldn’t let it alone.

“For pretty much the same reason that most of the women you see out here are trimmed or shaved. Hair contrasts with skin. Contrast draws the eye. Lack of contrast makes it go unnoticed,” I said. She considered that.

“I noticed.”

“You were looking,” I laughed. “I’ll tell you a secret, though. A lot of men sort of shrivel up as they get older. I personally think they shave so it won’t be so hard to find their pricks when they have to piss.” Cassie looked at me with her mouth open and then laughed. She groaned and held her head. I glanced down at my computer and closed out of the story. I wasn’t going to get anything written with Cassie wanting to talk.

“Look at me, Ari,” she said. I raised an eyebrow and started to ask what. “At me!” She’d released the knot in her pareu and let it fall to the side. Naked Cassie Clinton.

“Cassie, you don’t have to make a show of things,” I said softly.

“Am I that ugly?” she asked. “Old and withered. I don’t have boobs any longer; I have dugs.”

“Cassie, I’m looking at the little nipples I tried to see when you were thirteen. I’m probably going to have to put a towel on my lap now. We’re all older. You are still sexy,” I said.

“But Alice is so young and… firm. It’s not that I want to… you know… be physical with you, but it… I’ve always been the pretty one. When we were out last night… If I didn’t look at Alice and just looked at all the old people, I could still believe I was the pretty one. God! I’m so vain,” she said. Cassie was on a roll and one thing I’d learned was not to interrupt when she was on a verbal mission.

“Look! Even my pubes are all gray.” She spread her legs opposite me and I saw considerably more than her gray pubic hair. “I look at Alice and think, ‘I wish my grandson would find someone like her. They’d be perfect together.’ And then I realize she’s with you! You’re the pretty one.” She fell silent, sipping from her mug of coffee. She kept her legs parted, though and her breasts uncovered for my inspection.

Fuck! It was impossible for me to separate the image of fifteen-year-old cheerleader Cassie from the middle-aged woman sitting on the other side of the fire. Yes, her boobs were a little saggy. Her nipples, though, were hard in the middle of large areolae. I’d noticed that women seemed to get larger there as they aged. Maybe it was just gravity stretching their tits. The gray hair around her slit wasn’t unattractive, though a little matted. She wasn’t gaping, but simply showing very pink inner lips. For a minute in my mind, I was reaching for her hand as we walked through the woods.

“Ari?”

“Lost in a daydream,” I said. “Cassie, if you and I met and we were both unattached, I’d do everything in my power to get my little next-door neighbor girl off in the woods with me. And it wouldn’t be to play tag. I would want you exactly the way I see you right now. Naked. Wanting me to look at you. And I would, just like I’m doing now. Only I wouldn’t stop there. I’d want to suck on those hard little nipples of yours. I’d want to bury my face between your legs and part those gray hairs with my tongue. And when I was satisfied that you were as turned on as I was, I’d want to make love to you and feel my cock slide into those wet folds you are showing me.”

I picked up the thermos and walked over to refill her cup.

“My god! You’re hard!” she said.

“Yeah. It will go away soon. I just got lost in a fantasy. But Cassie, it’s only a fantasy. You are happily married. You’re not even sexually frustrated. I have Alice with me and, believe me, I’m not sexually frustrated. You and I are friends. Old, dear friends. I’m not going to stare at you any longer,” I said. I sat back down and started to relax. Cassie closed her legs demurely.

“Do you have some kind of clippers you trim with?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Could I borrow them?”

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For all I talk and write about sex, I’m a pretty reserved guy. I don’t make a lot of friends and Alice was the only long-term relationship I’d established since I started this trip, even though I’d had a few close encounters. I discovered that Andy was every bit as gregarious as Cassie and by Friday night there were three other couples sharing our fire in the evening. Alice cuddled in my lap as we let the others carry most of the conversation. As the evening grew chilly, we pulled our little camp blanket over us. Pretty much everyone had a cover-up. The mojitos were flowing. I’d had one early on and then declined any more. Under our blanket, I just kept petting Alice, running my hands lightly and slowly over her body as she did the same to me.

“I see now,” she whispered in my ear. I turned and brushed my lips against hers.

“What?”

“You really aren’t one of them, are you? They have their world of grandchildren and retirement funds and alcohol. And you…”

“I have you.” She grinned at me.

“Why don’t we start a scandal and go to bed,” she said.

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A Long Time Ago: Honeymoon

Paula and I honeymooned at a country inn in Southern Indiana. After the wedding and reception and getting well-wishes from all our friends, we got in my little Corvair and drove for two hours. We got there just before dinnertime.

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Our host showed us to our room, a lovely little place with windows that overlooked the meadow and a big four-poster bed. We had our eyes on that bed as soon as we walked into the room and couldn’t wait to be alone.

“Dinner is in ten minutes,” our host said. “You got here just in time.” She left and we looked at each other forlornly. We kissed and had nearly decided to skip dinner and consummate our marriage when we heard a bell ringing to call people to the table.

We sadly left the room and went to dinner.

It was embarrassing. We were sure everyone there knew why we were there. I did the honors and introduced myself and then my wife. By her maiden name. Everyone wanted to sit around the fire after dinner with a drink and socialize.

“Um… We had a really long day today,” I said. “I’m shot. We’ll see you all in the morning. I think we need to go to bed and stuff.” Paula tugged at my hand before I could add any more to the little speech and we could hear people laughing all the way to our room.

“And stuff? They all know we’re coming up here for stuff! We’ll be the scandal of the inn,” she said. But once the words were out of her mouth, my tongue was in it and we forgot all about the scandal we’d created by the fireplace.

Paula and I had been sexual for a year in our relationship, but she insisted she was maintaining her virginity until she was married. No matter what Bill Clinton would claim years later, not having sex included oral and visual as well as actual penetration. I’d seen and suckled her breasts, and we’d touched each other to orgasm frequently. During the past month, I’d diddled her clit to orgasm an average of once a day. She usually kept her hand outside my underwear to avoid another splashing incident like we’d had when Kate fell on us, but we were both pretty familiar with each other’s equipment.

Still, Paula was shy about going all the way and came to bed in a flannel nightie. When we finally settled into each other’s arms and started kissing, though, the barriers dropped rapidly. Her nightie followed, though she kept the sheet pulled up over us.

I really didn’t understand why she was so shy. Paula was a very pretty girl. We were twenty-one and both pretty fit. We appeared on stage as well as back stage. During our two years of marriage, she never was completely comfortable being naked.

She was also worried about being wet enough to accommodate me. Well, I had my fingers buried to the last knuckle in her and everything seemed wet and wild to me. But Paula insisted that I use lube so it didn’t hurt her. During our entire married life, I don’t think I was ever allowed entrance without slicking my cock and her opening with KY Jelly. Old habits die hard and I still carry the stuff with me, lo these many years later.

When we were finally naked and lubed, she was very traditional. She lay on her back and I hovered over her as she guided me into her pussy. I slid in easily and deeply. Her hymen was long gone. We fit together well and when I was fully inside, she reached between us and passed her fingers over the point where our pubic bones were mashed together.

“The only way we can ever get this part of our bodies together is by making love,” she said. And during our first time making love, that little instant was the only time our pubic bones touched. I’d learned over the course of our play that Paula wanted—needed—direct stimulation. That first night set the pattern of having my hand between us as I rubbed her clit, trying to make sure that she came before or as near to me as possible.

There was nothing bad about making love with Paula. We used lube and I had a hand between us to rub her clit. And we were almost always in missionary position. But we made love. A lot. It was never sex that we fought about. We had a hundred other things to argue over. But when we made love, that was all we did. We were young, in love, and could climax repeatedly. I don’t have any complaints about making love to Paula.

When we went to breakfast, there were a few snickers at the table. It turned out that people didn’t really expect us to show up for breakfast. We ate the tasty French toast and apple casserole and drank our coffee while we tried to keep from blushing all the time. I lost it, though, when Paula spoke.

“Excuse us,” she announced to the table as she pulled me to my feet. “We just got married yesterday and we need to go make love and… stuff some more!” We left a table surrounded by sputtering guests and charged back up to our room.

I guess we made a scandal after all.

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Back to Alice

Alice and I left the trailer and drove up to Lake Havasu City Saturday morning. It was a pleasant drive and I was happy the truck has a big bench seat. Alice had her long legs parked on the passenger side, but buckled her tiny butt into the center seat where she could lean against me.

“How are you ever going to get the trailer to Hawaii?” Alice asked. “You have such a random selection of states that you haven’t been through yet.”

“That’s true. I’m supposed to follow Cassie and Andy back to Florida so I can spend a couple months on the beach and then head north. The way they are going, though, it wouldn’t surprise me if they have already forgotten we’re camped next to them.”

“She sure is a social butterfly,” Alice laughed.

That was a good way to describe Cassie. She made lifelong friends in the time it would take me to introduce myself. Andy seemed to be cut from the same cloth. After their initial shock of getting naked, they’d started meeting people and were on the go all the time. I knew the names of half a dozen people I’d met in other locations, but had not really met anyone new. Cassie and Andy had a gathering at our fire, had been off to another campsite, and were out rock collecting with three other couples this morning. I heard them talking about playing a card game called ‘Hoof and Mouth’ or ‘Hand and Foot’ or some such tonight. They were in their element.

“Maybe I should store the trailer and fly to Hawaii for the winter,” I mused.

“The whole winter?”

“Well, I have to balance out travel costs. If I fly round trip and only stay a week or two, the cost of travel and housing would easily double my budget for the month. Maybe more. If I look for a longer-term rental instead of staying in a hotel, the cost per night goes down. If I stay for a couple of months, it spreads the cost of getting there over a longer period,” I said. I’d thought about visiting Hawaii. I hadn’t really done any planning. I wondered how expensive it would really be. Maybe I’d go and not want to come back.

“A-ri,” she purred, stretching so she could breathe in my ear. I kept both hands firmly on the wheel and the truck in the center of the lane, in spite of the almost instant arousal in my groin. “I’ve never been to Hawaii. If you were there for the whole winter, what would I do for Solstice? What about poor Alice, Ari?”

“Hmm. You think you’d like to visit Hawaii while I’m there? Alice, you know I’d welcome you anywhere in the world with me. It seems so long from now. You know, I’m not really used to planning things out that far in advance. I just point the truck and go,” I said. Still…

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A Long Time Ago: Road Trip

At twelve years old, I had more imaginary friends than real friends. Shades of things to come. I’d started writing a story. How little things change. This story was to be my first romance. I was in love with Hannah. There was no way around it. I knew I was in love because each night, I prayed for her. ‘God protect Hannah. And send my kisses to her.’ I’d follow this by blowing a kiss in the general direction of where she lived.

The story was to be called ‘Princes and Princesses.’ It would be an epic about four young friends, each royalty in his or her kingdom. The kingdoms would all meet at a corner where the four would gather for their play dates. I, of course, was one of the princes. Carl was the other. Hannah was my special princess. I considered having Betts as the other princess, but she couldn’t be Carl’s special princess because they were brother and sister. Besides, I’d want them both and that would leave Carl with no one. I wished Liz was still around. Her family had lived next door but moved before sixth grade started. Well, I’d let her be the other princess anyway.

There was a flaw in my story—not to mention that there was no plot. There were simply the four friends riding off on their horses together. The flaw was that I got confused about the number of esses in the singular and plural so sometimes my princess ended up being princes. I finally just drew blank lines whenever I was going to use one of the words and figured I’d fill it in later.

I was lost in my dream world, sitting in the top branches of the willow tree, which was my castle today, thinking about getting on my white horse and riding to see my princess. We’d… play something. That’s when I heard Dad get home from work and whistle.

I never learned to whistle like my father could. He’d just pull his lips back and bare his teeth. Then the loudest, shrillest whistle came out that I’ve ever heard. And it was a signal. My older sisters had learned to obey it, I learned to obey it, my little sister learned to obey it, and even my mother obeyed it. When Dad whistled, we came running, no matter where we were or what we were doing.

When I arrived, I was only a step behind my little sister. Mom was standing at the door. Dad had the hood of the old Packard up.

“I got the alternator,” Dad said. “It’ll take me an hour to get it installed. Pack up. I’ve got two weeks of vacation.”

That was it. In all my childhood, I don’t remember getting any more than an hour warning before we left on vacation. Mom shoved a paper bag at me.

“Put your underwear and socks in this. Get a clean pair of pants off the washing machine and two T-shirts. Take a sweatshirt. It’s cold out.”

By the time Dad had the new car part installed, Mom had Cathy and me packed, a bed made up in the back seat, a cooler in the trunk and dinner packed in a paper bag on the front seat. Dad washed his hands and started the car. We pulled out of the driveway onto Mosquito Road.

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“Where shall we go?” he asked.

“I haven’t seen my brother in a long time. They’re in Virginia now,” Mom answered. Dad turned the car toward the toll road.

A few years ago, I finished writing the story for Maddie.

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Back to Alice

I guess having a lot of imaginary friends wasn’t the only old habit that had been reinvigorated when I hit the road. When I arrived at a campground, I’d try to determine if it had a good vibe. I’d always book in for at least two nights, following the two-two-two rule. Always arrive by two o’clock. Never travel more than 200 miles. Always stay at least two days. If the campground looked good and the hosts were nice, I’d decide to stay for three days or five days or even as much as a couple of weeks.

The morning I left, I’d hitch up, look up and down the road, and choose a direction. That’s my life on the road. Even when Alice and I left Quartzsite for the weekend, we debated whether to head north to Lake Havasu City or south to Yuma. North won.

We pulled into town and checked in at the resort next to London Bridge. Alice had insisted that since I was making a special trip to please her that she was paying for the room. We walked past the pool and Alice stuck a toe in, then backed away.

“This one is not heated. I can’t believe there are so many sunbathers out! It’s only about seventy.”

“We’ve been running around naked in the desert and it’s only been in the high sixties,” I laughed. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”

“It sure is. Look at the perspective on that babe,” she said nodding toward a very well-built young woman lying face up on a lounge.

“Is she naked?” I asked. I’m fine with nudity, but there are times when it comes as a complete surprise.

“Not quite.”

“I can see her bikini bottoms. I meant topless.”

“Not quite,” Alice repeated. “She’s wearing pasties.”

“Holy shit. I haven’t seen pasties since the last time I went to a strip club in Missouri, the ‘Show me not much’ state,” I laughed.

“There’s the hotel gift shop. I wonder if they have them.” Alice made a detour while I stayed near the pool and saw that the young woman we almost fell over was not the only one topless with pasties. There were a couple old dolls who must have found a giant size to cover what they were covering. But there were also some young teens that didn’t have much of a swelling under the nipples that were covered. I joined Alice and we headed to our room.

“Guess what! Arizona has some freakin’ crazy laws. It’s like one of those public decency laws that always works out backwards. The law says that women’s nipples must be covered in public. It doesn’t say they can’t expose everything else! Guess what I bought!”

“Oh, Alice. Why would you ever cover up those beautiful nipples,” I laughed.

The first thing Alice wanted was a long hot shower. Rinsing off in the shower outside my trailer was a fine way to get clean quickly, though the rangers didn’t like you running shower water on the ground. You were supposed to collect it in a tub and take it to a dump station. But there is nothing like the luxury of a long shower with unlimited hot water.

“Ari, I need you to wash my hair. Will you do that for me, baby?”

I’m no dummy. I stripped and got my ass in that shower with her. And washed her hair.

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A Few Years Ago: Shampoo

Back in the days when I could afford regular haircuts and actually cared what my hair looked like, I had a favorite hairdresser. And manicurist. Once a month I went to see them both, got my nails trimmed and coated with a clear hardener, and got my hair washed and cut.

Donna would lay me back with my neck on a cutout at the edge of the sink and spend a long time washing my hair. She wasn’t a young woman, though possibly a little younger than me. She’d been a hairdresser for years.

“Most men figure they lathered their head with shampoo in the shower yesterday, so they don’t need to spend an extra five bucks for a shampoo,” she said as she ran hot water over my head. It was never too hot to stand, but just enough to tingle a little. “In my book, having your hair washed is one of life’s most pleasurable experiences. And washing hair is almost as pleasant. I feel like I can really get to know a person by massaging his head. I feel the little bumps, the shape of the underlying skull. You were a forceps baby. And a big one. I can tell by the indentations here and here. It’s why your hair never lies flat on the side. Tell me how big you were.”

“Twelve pounds, ten ounces.”

“Your poor mommy! There should be a law against that. And you’re such a skinny thing now.”

I loved having my scalp massaged. Of course, there were other things I liked about it and I couldn’t believe guys didn’t line up at the door to have Donna wash their hair. She was well built and, as she worked, her generous bosom kept brushing up against my face. I didn’t notice it the first time I got my hair washed. It was all about the scalp. But about the third month I lay back in that special chair, I became aware that those little brushes along my chin or shoulder seemed to linger longer. By the time I’d been seeing Donna once a month for nearly five years, she would lean forward until her breast was pressed lightly against my lips. As she manipulated my head and washed my hair, I could feel her nipple hardening. It was funny in a way. She always worked from one side of the chair, so it was always her right nipple that I felt coming to attention against my lips.

Then she’d rinse the conditioner out of my hair and take me to a barber chair to cut it like nothing at all was out of the ordinary.

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Back to Alice

Alice leaned back against me as I worked conditioner into her hair and while it rested, I gently washed the rest of her. I loved just petting and stroking her. She was long and sleek and smooth. She handed me her razor and soap and I lathered her armpits. She sat on the edge of the tub while I did her legs, and spread them apart so I could shave her mound and lips. That was something I hadn’t done to anyone else and she very patiently taught me which direction to pull her skin taut while I manipulated the twin blade razor over the sensitive skin. We rinsed thoroughly and she held me while I made sure the conditioner was rinsed out.

I realized that through all this tending to my lover, I hadn’t gotten hard. I guess I was just too focused on her.

“Alice, honey, am I a satisfying lover for you?” I whispered as we let the water cascade over us.

“Aren’t you the one who tells me not to fish for compliments,” she giggled. “Are you horny? Would you like to bend me over in the shower and have your wicked way with me?”

“I’m not. Horny or fishing. I’m… I just want you to be satisfied. You are so young and beautiful and perfect, and I’m… so not. Do you want more than what I give you?” I said.

She reached behind her and turned off the water. We got out of the shower and toweled ourselves off. She took me by the hand and led me to the bed. We lay down and she tried to make every curve of her body conform to mine. She still hadn’t answered and I felt the warmth of a tear against my chest. I figured this was it. I just held her tightly.

“Ari,” she whispered, “I sell sex for a living. Not that I have sex, but when I dance, I sell the idea that any man in that room could have sex with me. When I spread my legs and a customer looks at my pussy, what he thinks is that he could be fucking that. Not me. That. The best customers just think, ‘Oh, I’d like to fuck that.’ The worst think if they had a twelve-inch dick as thick as their forearms, they could rip that apart. I know. I’ve listened to them. Not one of them see me. They see my tits and pussy. Sex is just a commodity and I’m selling.”

She shook in my arms as I held her and I wept over her head. There was nothing I could say. I’d been in those audiences. I knew what I thought. If I tended toward the ‘good customer’ end of the spectrum, I still couldn’t name a stripper I’ve ever seen except Alice. She wasn’t finished yet.

“I know… know that we’re not the same age. But when I’m with you, you are willing to just hold me like this. You don’t try to fuck me. You try to be with me. And it’s not that you don’t desire me,” she said. “I know you do. But that’s just it. You desire me. Not just my cunt or my tits. When I’m with you, I feel like you care for me. I think you love me. I think that if I weighed 200 pounds and was in a wheelchair, you’d still love me and desire me. And then something happens when we least expect it and you just slide into me. When I come, it’s like a little miracle just happened. Not just an orgasm, but a lovegasm.”

She laughed and I was relieved to feel the shaking of her laughter instead of her sobs. I started to say something, but she raised her lips to mine and I tasted the salt of her tears, still fresh on her cheeks.

“You are the only man I’ve made love to in a year. Can you believe it? And we’ve been together a total of three weeks in that time. When I started my senior year in high school, I got a boyfriend. Sort of. We dated. We fucked. He was on the football team and four inches taller than me. You know I was a cheerleader. It seemed natural. He was a nice guy. He made sure that when we had sex, I got my cookies. He made sure Megan got an orgasm when he fucked her, too. He wasn’t cheating on me. We never went steady. Megan and I both knew he was fucking both of us. He was just a nice guy and we could always have a good time with him,” she said.

“But you know what? He was just like the guys in the club. He didn’t want me. He wanted my pussy. Or my mouth or my hands or my ass. Anything I’d let him stick his cock into. He gave me an orgasm because he figured that was the surest way that I’d let him fuck me. It was so empty. I quit cheerleading before basketball season. I started working at the club whenever I could. That meant no more time for dating. No time for relationships. But there was you. Ari, even when we talk on the phone and get ourselves off, I’ve never doubted how much you care for me.” She pecked me on the lips again and finally said, “I’m so satisfied.”

We went to sleep and had a nice nap. She’d given me a lot to think about. Neither of us even contemplated living together or her joining me on the road for longer periods. We’d figured out that the trailer was adequate, but like I’d discovered with Angie, it was a little cramped for two people.

And speaking of Angie, walking across London Bridge made me smile. Angie had made me hold her hands and sing ‘London Bridge is Falling Down’ as we crossed the bridge. We’d stop random people and ‘lock them up’. It was all good fun.

But when I woke up with Alice, there was something more. Something more than my cock sliding in and out of her as we awoke, neither of us knowing exactly how that got started, but loving every second of it.

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We went to a club that night that was mostly filled with the younger set, meaning under fifty. Alice didn’t feel odd and walking in with me, she wasn’t carded. We danced and I felt like I’d entered her world for a while. We went back to Quartzsite on Monday.

We took off a day before Cassie and Andy. I set up a rendezvous with them for the next weekend and I drove to a little RV park near Phoenix. Saturday morning, I took Alice to the airport. Kim met her there and greeted us with a big kiss and a promise that she’d catch up with me somewhere along my travels. Then she escorted Alice through security as a family member.

I waited. I got the text message that she was on the plane. Just before she shut down for the flight, she said, “I love you.”

 
 

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