“My, that’s a big sausage you have there,” the cashier commented.
That’s what I heard. At my age you never trust the first thing you hear anymore.
“I said, that’s a big sausage you have there,” she repeated and smiled up at me.
Up to this point, I hadn’t paid a bit of attention to the young lady. She may have been all of 25 years old, blonde hair up in a bun, overweight by some’s standards. She looked about just right to me.
She had two pairs working wonders for her: Deep blues eyes that sparkled as she held my slightly shocked glance, and a beautiful pair of breasts that plumped nicely out of her top and cashier cover-up.
The tag on her tunic told me she was “Kari.”
“Why thank you, Kari,” I mustered. “It’s what’s for dinner.”
She laughed. “Is that an invitation?”
I paused. Thought about the ice queen back home. Considered this nubile ball of trouble in front of me. It was an easy decision.
“Not this time,” I said through a smile.
“So, there could be a next time?”
The ribeyes landed with a thud in my cart.
“Young lady, I’ve learned to never say never.”
“You have a nice day, cutie.”
The breeze on my face in the parking lot made me realize the blood had come up through my neck and flushed my cheeks. I couldn’t recall the last time I felt embarrassed like that.
A simple double entendre shared between strangers. It lightened my mood considerably and put an extra bounce in my step.
On the way home, I considered: “Do I still have it?”
Taking stock of my situation, these titles pretty much summed things up for me:
Pretty good shape for a 55-year-old
Full head of hair, as well as a face full of hair
Could still see (most of the time) without reading glasses
Hell, truth be told, I was in the best shape of my life. When Dian put the kibosh on our intimacy, that gave me license to load up the garage with exercise equipment that I used frequently.
Maybe the hottie in the grocery store had seen something she liked.
“She saw an old man and an opportunity to break up the monotony of her morning,” I said to the rear view mirror and pushed down on the accelerator.
The realist side of me is a real pain in the ass sometimes. He gets me through some tough situations, but that doesn’t mean I like him. Bastard.
The drive home was enjoyable. The sun waxed warm. A bit of–dare I say it–hope for a pleasant day began to surface.
Groceries were unloaded. No sight of Dian. My truck was in the garage when I got home so the odds were high she was still on campus.
I didn’t think anything else about it. Put water on the stove to boil for the pasta. Heated the jar sauce. Began breaking down the sausage for meatballs. Put them in the oven to bake.
Once I felt that the meal was under control, it was time for a beer. I walked into the man cave and found Dian.
She was spread out in my recliner. Her right leg was thrown over the armrest. Her left leg was straight, a foot on the floor, pressing up on her toes, rocking.
Her left hand was giving her pussy what appeared to be quite a workout. Her right hand alternated squeezing her breasts that were popped out of a top I knew very well.
She looked hot as hell when she wore that top.
She looked like a sex goddess bitch in heat in it now.
I was speechless.
“You like watching this?”
I just stood there, jaw dangling.
“You left your phone here this morning.”
“Oh fuck, this feels amazing,” she gasped. “I picked your phone up by mistake. Saw it wasn’t mine. Then went to the browsing history anyway. There’s some pretty messed up shit in there, Buck.”
“Dian, what the fuck?” I managed. My cock was now a raging piece of steel between my legs…