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She was the essential wet dream city slicker to my callow small town, nay village, upbringing. It happened during a Big Fat Indian wedding. I was 18 and she must have been 21, friend of the bride. We caught each other spying on the newlyweds on their first night. Nothing happened between them, but we both had our roll in the hay, literally. Totally unremarkable and she spent the rest of the wedding dodging me.
Was a foreign exchange student at my tech school. Older, savvy and from a foreign land. I fell in love with her honey gold skin. We became a pair on campus, working on projects, bumming pot, dry humping, and praying for privacy so that we could have sex. We were the proverbial bunnies with no scared spaces. She broke my heart when she went back to her country never to keep in touch.
She was the confirmation of my infatuation with older women. She was 38 to my 27 and sizzling. A senior colleagues’ wife who hung out on the balcony at office parties watching her husband get progressively drunk and idiotic. I was the young and more than willing shoulder. It helped that I had a clean pad with clean sheets. Sex was always remarkable. After about a year, the guilt of dodging her kids and husband got to her. A false pregnancy test result was the nail that closed the coffin of this affair.
The woman I married. The sheer lack of women in engineering at our company made her a prime target for all hormone addled male brains. Only a year older than my 30, we slowly segued into our own harmony, marrying within the year. We just spent long hours in each other’s companionable silence. We explored each other like new continents. The heartbreak of never being able to have kids dulled the spark in her. The love was never lost and she is still the only person I can hang out with not speaking a word for hours. The pressure of careers began to take its toll on us and we fell to be housemates rather than a couple.
My welcome to the 40s fling in a foreign land. She was the Alpha older woman and yet another office connection. I discovered hidden desires with her, exploring S&M clubs of the western European cities. We both knew it would only last till my return. We are still friends but just that now.
A friend of PPS, hot and sweaty sex for a couple of weeks while she was away. No emotional or intellectual connect at all. The loudest woman I know, I was scared we would be thrown out of our hotel. The tipping hat of the door man and his sly smile after our first romp made me blush for the first time in years.
Another major office binge, another drunken performance by her husband. The electricity across the room when she spotted me was stunning. Menopause notwithstanding, the sex was extraordinary. The next morning we both had our own bags of guilt to take back from the convention.
A visiting cousin’s girlfriend. A deviation from pattern, a full five years younger than me. Break up with fireworks in my home. Too much alcohol, too much loneliness on my part and the rebound led to some athletic sex. We woke up suitably determined to go our separate ways. It could have been more if I pushed I guess.
A near fatal accident and long period of recovery brought us back together again. I rediscovered the joys of being around her. We are mending and healing each other slowly. The sex is almost spiritual. I look forward to my 50th with a lot of peace.