My first submission (Shunga Lesson) was based on a real life situation when I was much younger. There were name changes with some fictional background and one fantasy addition.

This, my second submission did not actually take place as written. However, it is an assembly of real occurrences with a sprinkling of truth on the characters and background :-).

It addresses the reality that there are plenty of baby boomers out there with the same raging desire they had in the summer of Love, now backed with decades of experience. And they don’t dream of doing it with Millennials. They are Hot for partners their own age. It can make for a heady combination.

L. F.

YORKSHIRE PUDDING – CHAPTER ONE

Bored with my room, I am sitting in the cozy little pub at our hotel in the UK.

I’m reading 56 Rabbits by my friend Nadine Masterson and drinking a ginger ale.

Nadine published it over two years ago, but I have only just now pulled it up on my Kindle. It is really quite good and she keeps impressing me with the story line, unique use of words, phrasing and character development.

I’m pissed I did not get to it sooner.

“Are you with the bride or the groom?”

I am not wearing wedding attire, but given our remote location, the question can be forgiven.

“I am actually not part of the wedding party, just a hotel guest.”

“And a Yank.”

“Yes, that is true.”

“Well this gets stranger and stranger……. Do tell what brings you to this tiny hotel pub.”

I am doing a site survey in Yorkshire, well south of Leeds. The local accommodations are all small inns scattered through the nearby villages. It’s spring and these charming locations do a brisk business in weddings.

Myself and three associates are ensconced in the charming Thornecross Inn where there have already been two weddings this weekend.

I explain the above to my new bar mate.

“What is a site survey?…………”

“Pretty much what it sounds like, we are looking over a site for a potential film shoot.”

“What film.”

“Sorry, I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Well, that’s truly boring.”

My questioner is somewhere between 50 and 60 and dressed for the occasion, which is her niece’s wedding. Actually, she makes a point of telling me it’s her grand niece.

She seems vaguely interested in my work, but only just. This conversation is not really going anywhere and I want to get back to my reading.

“So you are doing a site survey. Are you a site surveyor…… or what is it they call you?”

“To my face or behind my back?”

This makes her laugh………. And that’s all it was, a laugh…… but something changed.

“They call me a Location Manager.”

That laugh caused me to turn and actually engage. I generally make minimal eye contact with people. It’s definitely a character defect of mine and I probably miss a lot because of it. I certainly almost missed this moment.

Something in her laugh, it seems familiar. Do I know this woman already?

Yes, more than I will ever understand, but I am getting ahead of myself.

There was just something in that laugh and it caused me to look up and the conversation began in earnest.

“What a great laugh.” I said, turning fully to her and for the first time, taking a true measure of the woman I was speaking to.

“Why thank you.”

And then she just sat there, as if waiting for me to assess her………..and so I did.

This woman next to me……now in front of me, since we had both turned to face each other, was different and more complex than whatever my first rapid (not really caring) appraisal had been.

Her age was indeterminate…. there were lines that spoke of experience and living. There was the looser skin that comes with age. But she was toned and vibrant. She was a grown woman of my age, but had a unique radiance.

It was the eyes (isn’t it always) that truly snared me. Hazel irises, that lacking the exotic color usually given to charmers, sparkled with something I could not put my finger on.

The framing was typical. Mascara and some bold burgundy eyeliner really set off her hair which was such a dark red as to be purple and I took it to be absolutely natural. It was styled into a bit of a bob, but hung long, almost to her neck, thick and full.

Straight bangs gave her kind of a Betty Page ‘Proper British Version” look.

Perfect for a wedding, she had on a dress of deep green watered silk with a leaf pattern in the weave, cut on a bias so one side was nearly to her knee, while the other hung to mid calf.

Very sensible pumps with a round toe spoke of comfort rather than style. Yet, they were definitely couture, the quality of the green leather obvious.

A wide sash of the same silk is wrapped around her midriff which appears very flat before the bodice flares up and out at her bosom and then flows up to her neck where it gathers in a collar, leaving her shoulders bare.

There is some skin wrinkling and sagging along her biceps which leads me into the sixties at guessing her age, but so much else has me thinking much younger — damn I suck at this — but it’s probably because I don’t care.

Her hands are lovely. Long, slender fingers, with only slight age spotting (another confusion). There is none of the pronounced vascularity of older women. Her nails are professionally manicured, the finish and polish, deep and lustrous (and British Racing Green). The also appear to be her own nails, no augmentation.

What is so very unique is that they are clipped very close, the fingertips exposed like a masseuse or pianist. On her head is deep green pillbox hat with a lace veil tucked around it and under the edges.

I notice there is no wedding ring on her hand, something I never generally think about…………then again, I no longer wear one either and yet adore my Wife, strange. Why am I noticing or caring at all?

She seems to suss that my inspection is over and smiles.

“What is your name?.

“Hank.”

“Hank, the….”

“Please don’t”

Laughing again…… “Pleased to meet you Hank, my name is Miriam. By the way, you are much nicer and certainly more attractive when you actually look at people.”

“Why thank you. And you are frankly intriguing as hell when I do actually look at you. Do you own that pill box hat or did you borrow it.”

That laugh again………….. “I actually did borrow it, but I think it matches the dress nicely, don’t you?’

“I do.”

We wander into getting to know each other. There are occasional interruptions from wedding reception guests coming by to say hello. I ask if I am keeping her from anything but she seems to like our discourse and waves my inquiry off the same way she dismisses friends and family.

I get her history, from art college in Cambridge, to dropping out and roaming the middle and far east before returning to college and getting a degree in economics at Balliol.

She then spent the bulk of her career at Lloyds as an adjustment investigator from which she has retired. The work involved a lot of international travel and she seems to have been everywhere.

Common ground: she’s an avid cyclist and has traveled to three of my favorites, Cambodia, Bhutan and Laos as well as a few place I have not. She is married but he is not with her.

She hears of my odd journey from street politics to disaster relief and then film, a bit of the dark, lost years, my late age marriage.

We dig into other shared interests and keep finding common touchstones and similar opinions and experiences. Even politics seem to align in these ever fractious times. Promiscuous in our early years (without details), we both went through several long term relationships before marrying in late adulthood.

By now we have both surprised each other in discovering she is 65 and I am 69. It fits the narratives we were both telling, but even with those signposts we were both guessing a decade lower.

There is something still gnawing at me and it only grows as we talk. Something familiar. As I hear about her traveler adventures in the 70’s and far flung business travel in the 80’s I become aware that it parallels mine in so many ways.

Was this woman a one night stand on a beach in Koh Samui? Or a hotel bar pickup in Tokyo? Has she recognized me and I not recognized her? I tuck this away, still wondering where the hell this resonance I feel is coming from.

I have come to realize that except for the surroundings, dress and sensible pumps, this woman is not your typical great aunt at a country wedding. But then I am pushing 70 and still feel 19. We both seem to know something about going against the norm.

As if she can read my thoughts……….. “Not exactly what you expected?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your hotel in Yorkshire?”

“Oh, ………um…….. No, no, it’s not”

With that she smiles and puts her hand over mine, as if to say: ‘That’s not what I was asking and you know it.’

Looking down at the close cropped nails I suddenly fantasize what they would be like in my Ass working my prostate.

I can feel my face warm as realize how weirdly out of bounds such a thought is and I wonder where the fuck it came from.

“Mhhh Hmmm Right.” She smiles, letting me know that she was speaking about my appraisal of her and certainly not the accommodations. Most assuredly, she equates my blushing with being caught out as there is no way she could know what I just fantasized.

“So what does your Wife do?”

“She is a painter, although she now teaches as well”.

“Fascinating.”

And the she absolutely does not mean it.

“So, how is your Sex life?’

“Excuse me………..?”

“How is your Sex life?”

“You really want to know?” I almost replied ‘none of your business’, but I like that she has put me on the back foot and I have not flirted with a woman in years. That is of course if flirting is what she is doing…………….And anyway, I was the one just thinking about her fingers in my Ass.

“Yes”

I take a long pause. Nothing sexual (other than my finger fantasy) has cropped up until this point. Although I find her more and more attractive, she has not given me any signals, nothing coy and now this……….

I am never going to see this woman again, what the hell, maybe some verbal sparring will give me a fantasy to masturbate to later tonight. I decide to be open and honest, after all Terri’s and my Sex can be pretty Hot.

“When it happens it is amazing. We have been together over 30 years and know how to pleasure each other completely. We have enough kinks to keep ourselves amused and she is in great shape, much like you.” Touche! I think.

“You said ‘when it happens’ — is that because you travel all the time or something else?”

“A bit of both, I am on the road a lot, but we have also grown to have different needs.”

“Is that why you are sitting in a hotel bar, chatting up a randy Englishwoman?”

“Well, I started out sitting in a hotel bar and reading a book and I only just now found out that you are randy”

“You could have done the reading in your room.”

“Very true, but the ginger ale down here is fabulous ………………How is your Sex life with your husband?”

“It’s okay, no, excuse me, it’s great. But like you, we don’t have enough of it to suit me. He is an attentive lover, but I am always the one to initiate.”

“Well, we seem to have that in common.” And I think about how nice it would be to have Terri be the one to initiate our Sex.

“I guess with all your travel, you go to a lot of hotel bars and read your book, don’t you?”

“If that is your cute way of asking if I go out and pick up women in bars, the answer is no. This is truly what it appears to be. What about you, do you roam parties picking up men of a certain age? You are certainly attractive enough to shoot for someone much younger and better looking than me.”

“No, I don’t cruise for pickups, nor have I ever asked a stranger about their Sex life before” she laughs. “I really don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight. And don’t sell yourself short. Self deprecation is a turnoff.”

It really is a great laugh and we both relax a bit. Our mutual tension of “where the hell is this going” eases as we both acknowledge being on unsure footing. Trouble is, I am starting to be attracted to her enough to risk rejection and see where this goes.

“We both appear to be married to people we truly Love and neither of us are out trophy hunting, am I correct?”

“Yes, that is an accurate assertion.”

“Can we explore this some more?’

“Sure…………”

“Have you ever cheated on your Wife — be completely honest.”

“Wait, this feels like an interrogation, not an exploration.”

“Okay, fair enough. Ground rules: Any question we ask, will be answered by both of us, okay? But with complete, absolute honesty.

I realize that she is plumbing herself as much as me. There is an almost visceral need building between us. Not so much for each other, but for connection and understanding.

“Okay. Are there any boundaries?”

“Would you like there to be?” she asks with a very mischievous smile. The first definite flirt and she does it very well. She seems to like doing it. I like it even more.

“No, but now this is becoming intellectual foreplay…..”

“Only intellectual?……….. wait, I will answer first………..Intellectual yes, but definitely something more. Are you scared?”

“That was two questions — you only answered one, I will do both and wait for your second answer. Definitely not only intellectual and yes, I am scared a bit.”

“Me too. Have you ever cheated on your Wife and don’t give me a yes or no answer”.

“During our 31 year marriage, I have had Sex with three women, one was 29 years ago and another 20 years ago. Six years ago an old flame and I sort of had Sex.”

“I had a two month affair with another man 17 years ago. The Sex was amazing, but I could not handle the guilt and ended it. Kind of like you, I saw him again a few years ago and let him feel me up in a coat room at company party.”

I begin laughing………….

“Give me details.”

“That’s not a question.”

“How far did you allow him to go in the coat room?”

By now we are almost head to head and whispering, like two schoolchildren even though no one is near us. The bar man is watching us from his station at the end of the bar with a knowing a look in his eye.

How many couples of all ages has he watched over the years. God, a penny for his thoughts on this!

“I let him finger me until I orgasmed and was about to take him with my mouth when someone interrupted us.”

Almost on cue, a wedding party member breaks the spell….

“Miriam, have you seen David?”

“No, I would bet he is outside smoking.”

With an almost school girl smile, she leans back in and says

“Now where was I?”

Laughing, I say “You were about to take him with your mouth……..”

“Yes, and I remember, you have to answer you own question as well.”

“We are actually quite similar again. She was in my office on location and I fingered her until she came…… the only difference being that she did take me with her mouth.”

“No!”

“Yes, she did.”

“Did she swallow…………”

“Miriam!”

“Well, did she? And did you kiss her afterwards?”

“Okay, my dear, this has definitely become foreplay on my side.”

“Hank, my dear, that is not an answer.”

“Yes, she swallowed”

She literally squeals in delight, laughing. clapping her hands and tapping her feet on stool rail.

“And did you kiss her afterwards?”

“No, not yet, it is my turn to ask a question. Seems we have left the ‘intellectual’ trappings behind and are now into full blown verbal foreplay, yes?”

“Do you mean, am I getting aroused asking a man I just met about secret ruttings with old lovers”

“Yes, that’s what I am asking’

“Well, I am not sure that………….” she pauses, leans a bit closer and knocks my Kindle off the bar. “Oh, my, I am so sorry.”

I climb off my stool and crouch down to pick up the Kindle. As I do this, she swivels a bit on her stool and seems to be fumbling with her dress. I stand and remount the stool, wondering if she has a thong that is riding up inside her and getting a bit damp.

“So, you did not answer me, but I saw your fiddling with your dress. Are the two related?”

That laugh once more……. “more than you can imagine, but the simple answer is yes, this is getting me aroused.”

“So, you have more desire than your mate, but your morality won’t let you cheat — what do you do.”

“I fuck myself silly with an assortment of dildos, plugs and vibrators. Your turn”

“I masturbate as well.”

“How often — I do it nearly every day.”

“Me too.”

“No!”

“Yes, in fact I jerk off more now than I did in my 20’s and 30’s.”

“Oh, my god, me too! My girlfriends and husband think I am hormonally imbalanced.”

“Well, Terri thinks the same of me and I don’t really share it with others. Most of my co-workers are at least a decade younger than we are.”

“That’s right, you should be retired by now. Maybe all that wanking is what is keeping you young. What do you use, just your hand, you already know about my toys.”

“I use assorted lubes”

“Is that just for your hand and your dick thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do you want to know if I stick things in my Ass?”

“That’s exactly what I want to know.”

Once again, I pause unsure of how far to go………..oh what the hell, this is becoming fun! And she is either truly a kindred spirit or a con woman of the top shelf.

“Yes, I have some toys of my own, ……….. and enjoy using them regularly ………….now you.”

“Pardon me sir, but I am a proper, Adult, staid Englishwoman……………………. Of course I diddle my bum!”

It’s now my turn to laugh and I realize that yes, I am having a ball with her and absolutely want to bed this woman.

“I can’t believe I just said that to a stranger!”

“Me too!”

“I have a confession to make……….”

“Confess away.”

“I intentionally knocked your kibble thing off the bar.”

“It’s called a Kindle.”

“Whatever.”

“Why did you knock it off the bar?”

“Because I wanted to show you something, but I fucked it all up.”

“What did you want to show me?”

“I can’t……….”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t say it.”

“Good god woman, we have just discussed Anal play, sucking cock, fingering pussies and there is something you can’t say?”

“Yes, there is something I cannot say……..also, I prefer cunt to Pussy. Pussy sounds little girl weak, while a cunt is woman strong……….. and I just remembered that you did not answer me about kissing that woman after she sucked you off.”

As she says this, she is wrestling with her dress again, which seems to have gotten bunched up under her bottom and she pulls the excess out from under her seat. My thoughts return to the mystery thong.

I figure, what the fuck……………”Yes I kissed her, open mouthed with my come on her tongue. Is that the answer you were hoping for?”

“I am so glad to hear you say that………..” and with that she takes my poor Kindle and practically throws it onto the floor.

WTF!

I get up off the stool and squat down between us to pick it up. She swivels toward me on her stool and quickly hikes her dress to knee height, spreads her knees open for a moment………………. And then closes her knees and lets her dress fall.

It was so rapid, that I almost wondered if it happened at all.

It was very brief and no one around us could have seen, but she finally provided me with that which she could not say.

I am speechless. The glimpse she gave me has brought me to full tumescence (not that I had much farther to go).

Up, between her legs, the black stockings ended in bold contrast to the Ivory white of her inner thighs.

The black lace straps of her garters climbed up to a wide lace belt that framed her manicured strip of bush with its glistening pink seam and …………… No thong! No panties at all………….