AN UNEXPECTED PHONE CALL By Bob Black (rgb438@gmail.com)
"This is Margaret Carter, Jim's wife," said the woman on the phone. "You sent him a text and left a message on his phone a few weeks ago. I hate to tell you, but Jim had a heart attack and died—and I think it was the same day you tried to get ahold of him."
I was perplexed at first, trying to recall someone I might have called named "Jim Carter"—and then, with a slight panic, I recognized the name: Jim Carter was lookinginmn, and we had met on a site for mature men looking to connect with one another. He was in his early 70s, a year or two older than I, and I had been to his house three or four times. We had planned to get together on the day his wife had mentioned. But when I got to his house, he didn't answer the door, nor respond when I texted him or called his cell phone. After a few minutes, I had left. I figured something had come up, though he didn't respond when I emailed him to reschedule our meeting.
"I'm curious how you knew Jim," continued the woman on the phone. "And also curious about something you said in the message you left on his phone, that you were `ready for some fun'?"
"Uh, I don't remember just how we met," I stammered. "Maybe through work?"
"Was it one of those sex sites? Is that what you meant about having fun? I found several things like that on his computer."
Busted!
Even though I feared that she might soon begin to scream at me, my only actual choice at this moment was either to admit the fact or to hang up.
"Yes," I said after a short pause, "it was through one of those sites."
"What were you going to do? I want to understand, I really do." She didn't sound angry, but instead curious, perhaps a bit hurt.
"I'll tell you whatever you want to know," I replied after another short pause, "but I'd rather not say it over the phone. Would you like me to tell you in person? I promise I will try to answer all your questions."
And that's how I came to meet Margaret Carter in the living room of her home. The pleasant-looking woman who answered the door a half-hour later was full-figured, dressed in a pastel blouse and full skirt. I guessed she might be about 60, a few years younger than me. On the way to her house, I had recalled Jim mentioning at our first meeting that he was retired but his wife was a bit younger and still working.
Margaret smiled nervously at me and invited me inside, motioning for me to sit on the sofa--and thus began a very awkward conversation that soon took an unexpected turn.
"You wanted to know how we met," I began. "It was like you said—on a sex site for mature men." I explained that Jim had initially contacted me, that we had met several times to suck one another's cock.
"Are you gay?" she asked. "Was Jim gay?"
"I'm not gay, maybe bi," I replied. "I guess I'm like a lot of men my age. My wife gave up sex after menopause, but I wasn't ready to stop. We tried using gel on her vagina to give her some moisture, but it was still uncomfortable, even painful for her.
"We even tried to just have oral sex," I continued. "In fact, I was okay with satisfying her, even if she didn't go down on me. I love oral sex, giving as much as receiving, so I was okay with that arrangement. But after a few times of cunnilingus-only, we both realized she simply wasn't interested in sex.
"That was 25 years ago, but I wasn't ready to give up sex," I told Margaret. "That's when I started playing around with guys from time to time. I don't know if Jim was gay—I'm pretty sure he wasn't. But I'm know I'm not. I love my wife very much, and I'd say we have a good, strong marriage—I'm happy, except for the sex part."
I continued: "I guess I might be bi, at least as far as sex. Over the years, I have met a lot of men who started playing around with guys just like me, later in life, often after their wife had lost interest in sex. In my case, at first it was just meeting some guy for the occasional blow job, some guy who was looking to suck a cock.
"But then one time I felt I should return the favor. I don't know why--I never imagined I would ever do that, suck someone's cock. And I was just as surprised to discover that I liked it."
"And so you and Jim met for sex . . . to suck each other's cock?" Margaret asked
"Yes," I replied. "We met three or four times. Jim was a little taller and trimmer than me. But our cocks were about the same size, mine maybe a little thicker. I remember his cock had a nice head and veined shaft."
I was surprised at my own candor. The words sounded odd coming from my mouth--but Margaret was obviously interested. I felt my cock begin to stir a bit.
"But you're not gay?" It seemed clear that she needed to be sure, not only about me but also about her late husband. "How can that be? How can you suck cocks and not be gay?"
"As far as love goes, I'm attracted to women, not men. I simply can't imagine falling in love with a man. I'd be glad to find a woman about my age who is interested in sex—not for a love relationship, just sex," I assured her. "But women like that are pretty hard to find, at least in my experience."
Margaret nodded slightly.
"But sex isn't love, and there are a lot of guys in the same boat as me, looking for sex. Swapping cum—that's what it's called, two guys sucking each other's cock--taking care of the need for each other."
Margaret and I were sitting about five feet apart, me on the sofa, she in an upholstered easy chair. She looked at me thoughtfully for a long moment, then said quietly, "Will you show me your . . . penis?"
I was astonished. I had come to her house prepared for one thing, and now another thing was beginning. I thought to myself: What the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound.
After quickly assessing the possible responses I might offer to her request, I slowly rose from the sofa, unzipped my fly and fished my cock from my underwear. I held my stiffening cock in my right hand for her to see. I had never done anything remotely like this, and I found it strangely exciting.
"And Jim sucked your penis?" Her breath was short and hushed.
"Say `cock,'" I said.
"Cock. Jim sucked your . . . cock?"
"Yes, he sucked my cock--and I sucked his cock too," I replied, my voice also hushed. My cock had begun to rise fully. Margaret's right hand went almost instinctively to her breast and she pinched her nipple slightly.
"I want to see you to rub your penis . . . I want you to masturbate for me." She swallowed hard and licked her lips as I began to masturbate slowly. My cock is seven and a half inches lock—and it was now fully erect.
"Okay," I said, my breath shallow like hers. "But it feels weird, me standing here like this with my cock out, masturbating for you, and you fully dressed."
She glanced at my face, then returned her gaze to the fingers of my right hand masturbating my swollen cock slowly but steadily. A drop of precum appeared on the tip, and I could feel my cock throbbing.
Having evidently made a decision, Margaret sat forward on the chair and began to unbutton her blouse. When she reached the last button, she removed the blouse and let it drop behind her. She slowly caressed each of her breasts, concealed only by the white bra she wore. Then she reached around and unclasped the bra and let it fall. Suddenly she sat naked from the waist up, just a few feet from where I stood stroking my cock. Her breasts were full and pillowy, her nipples erect and—to my delight—long and hard, like short pencil stubs.
I took a short tentative step toward her, wanting to feel her lovely nipples, caress her full breasts—but she stopped me: "Let's not touch. Let's just watch each other . . . this time."
"Okay," I agreed, continuing to stroke my cock slowly. With my left hand, I unbuttoned my shirt and paused slightly from masturbating only as long as necessary to remove my shirt. Margaret followed suit, and we began to get naked before one another. She kicked off her shoes, then stood and removed her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. With barely a pause, she pulled her underpants down and stepped out of them too.
At the same time, I sat back on the sofa and pulled off my shoes, socks, pants, and underwear. We were both now fully naked.
My preferred method of jacking off is not with my whole hand, as if I were gripping a tool of some sort. Rather, I use just my thumb and the first two fingers of my right hand, and I use a light touch to begin with. As I began to masturbate once again, Margaret watched intently as she settled back in the easy chair, spread her legs wide, and began to masturbate too.
"When you and Jim sucked each other, how did you do it?" Margaret's gaze was fixed on my erect cock and my fingers as I masturbated myself. "I mean, did one of you suck the other's . . . cock, then you switched? Did you get on your knees?"
"No, we were on the bed together, and we sucked each other at the same time, in the 69 position. We tried lying on our sides at first, but it was easier if I was on top, because Jim was a little taller than me. It was easier to do that way, for both of us."
"Did he let you cum in his mouth?" With one hand, Margaret was fingering her pussy and with the other, massaging her clitoris, which was fully erect. Like her nipples, her clitoris was pronounced, not a little button, but almost like a tiny little penis. I had always wanted to meet such a woman.
"Yes, I came in his mouth."
"And you let him cum in your mouth too?"
"Yes, he came in my mouth too," I replied in the strange matter-of-fact, question-and-answer conversation we had developed. "I kind of like the taste of cum, most guys' anyway. I remember one or two guys whose cum tasted acrid--I don't like that taste. But I like most guys' cum. I liked Jim's cum, a little salty, a little sweet."
"I never let him cum in my mouth," Margaret said, almost wistfully, it seemed to me. "I guess I never really liked sucking a man's . . . cock."
"Maybe you wish you could change that," I suggested.
Both of us were now masturbating with greater urgency.
"Yes, I think I'd like to suck Jim's cock if he were here," she murmured softly, her fingers racing in and out of her pussy.
"Funny, I remember Jim saying a couple of times that we ought to swap partners with another couple we knew. That was a few years ago. I thought maybe it was just some crazy fantasy. But now, I wonder—maybe what he really wanted to do was just suck Ed, the husband of the couple we knew. Maybe they were actually doing that all along and I didn't know it."
"Maybe," I replied, shrugging slightly as I continued stroking my cock. Precum was flowing freely from the tip of my cock. Margaret was intent on her own self-pleasure, rubbing her swollen clit-penis with her right hand, tweaking the pencil-stub nipple of one breast with her left hand.
"Now I wish we had done that, if Jim hadn't died—you know, trade partners."
"And maybe see him suck the other guy too?"
"Yeah, I guess so—that would be hot!" Margaret closed her eyes, imagining the might-have-been scene.
"What about you and the other woman? What would you be doing while Jim and Ed were sucking each other?"
"Maybe we'd make love too. I might do that. When I was just a young girl, I used to play around some with another girl my same age, a neighbor."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Mostly kissed and played with each other's tits. But a few times we fingered each other, and a couple of times we even licked each other."
"Oh, God!" I said suddenly. "I'm about to cum!"
She opened her eyes fully but continued to rub her clit furiously. "I want to see you cum!"
I was stroking my cock rapidly, my thumb on the front of the shaft and my two fingers racing up the sensitive back side. "Arrrh!" I shouted as I reached my orgasm. My back arched and my body went rigid for a moment of such pleasure as I had rarely experienced in recent years. I no longer shoot as much cum as when I was a younger man, or as far. But in Margaret's living room, my orgasm was intense as ever and my diminished cum spurted from my cock into a small pool on my bare stomach.
Margaret watched intently, her fingers noisily slurping wildly at her pussy. Suddenly, she closed her eyes tightly as she too reached that divine point of extreme pleasure. "Oh God!" she yelled out, clamping her legs together tightly, even as her right hand still massaged her swollen clit and massaged the folds of her pussy.
Finally, she relaxed and opened her eyes. We looked at one another, but neither of us moved, both exhausted from our exertions.
"That was nice," I said at last.
"Yes. I've never done anything like this in my whole life."
"But you enjoyed it?"
"Yes!"
"So did I!"
"Too bad Jim wasn't here too," Margaret said, her eyes suddenly tearing.
"Yes," I said, "we could have both sucked his cock."