and nobody batted an eyelash extension. Had I come a generation too late to even know how to be slutty?
I studied Ben to gauge whether I sounded sexy, or like a deranged, past-her-prime lunatic.
“Good to know,” he finally grinned, making me slump with relief. “I’d like to try that talent out sometime, perhaps.”
“Do you…do you drink older wine a lot?” I asked, unable to contain the questions spilling out of my brain.
“Once,” he blushed, and I couldn’t lie – it was adorable.
“Once? Care to share the story?”
He stared down at his glass. “Well, I’ve never told anyone this, but…here goes. This wine is working a little too well, I think.”
He leaned back, making his fresh, crisp scent hit my nostrils, and the reaction caused my whole body to go numb like when you walk outside in January. “Well, older women hit on me all the time, but I never did anything about it – until my neighbor, Miss Jill, came along,” he began. “She had a husband who was never home, always off on business or whatever, you know, that sort of deal, and before long she became absolutely crazy for attention.”
“How old was she?”
“Fifty-one, but her plastic surgeries made her look about thirty.”
“ Wow . And how old were you?”
“Well, it started out right after I turned seventeen. And – let me explain!” he said in response to my floored expression. “I went away to Alabama for football camp for six weeks and came back with twenty more pounds of muscle, and the moment she saw me, she started putting on skimpy little outfits to clean her pool and whatnot. But I’m a bit of a dufus about that stuff, and I never noticed a thing. It wasn’t until my friend pointed out how strange it was that Miss Jill was putting on a thong bikini to clean her screened-in pool every single day that I realized something was up.”
My grandfather clock ticked away. “So this Miss Jill lady – did she seduce you?” I asked, leaning forward and slipping into a tense little world where only Ben and his story existed.
“Hold on,” he said, sipping his wine. “This wasn’t some situation where she cornered me late one night and jumped my bones or something. I can’t lie – I wanted her, too. A lot. And I felt really guilty about it. I’d always watched – you know, like, MILF porn, for whatever reason – and I wondered about Miss Jill pretty often. I think I had some sort of fetish for her. At night I’d lay in bed imagining what it’d feel like to take off her bikini bottoms and feel around down there, and then I’d touch myself and pretend it was her. Since she paid me to feed her dogs after school, I started sneaking into her room to poke around, and…well, one day she came home early and found me smelling her underwear drawer.”
“ Wow ,” I said, starting to get a little turned on, even though what we were talking about was admittedly bizarre, and maybe even criminal. My reaction was confusing and maybe even concerning, but I couldn’t stop myself – this was hot. “What’d she do?”
“Well, I couldn’t deny that I wanted something to happen,” he said, looking more than a little ashamed. “She walked up, grabbed me by the chin, and told me I was being bad. I was so turned on and terrified and all these other things, all I could do was stare at her – I think I came a little in my pants right then and there, actually. So she asked me what my mother would say about me smelling the underwear of someone who was her own age, and I said I had no clue, but that she’d be mad. After a really long silence, Miss Jill asked me if I ever thought of her at night, and I nodded, and then she pushed me down her body by my shoulders, shoved my face into her underwear, and told me to smell the real thing.”
I crossed and uncrossed my legs and then reached up to wipe my brow. The air in the room now felt somewhere between “piping hot” and “Las Vegas parking lot in August.”
“Where were
I studied Ben to gauge whether I sounded sexy, or like a deranged, past-her-prime lunatic.
“Good to know,” he finally grinned, making me slump with relief. “I’d like to try that talent out sometime, perhaps.”
“Do you…do you drink older wine a lot?” I asked, unable to contain the questions spilling out of my brain.
“Once,” he blushed, and I couldn’t lie – it was adorable.
“Once? Care to share the story?”
He stared down at his glass. “Well, I’ve never told anyone this, but…here goes. This wine is working a little too well, I think.”
He leaned back, making his fresh, crisp scent hit my nostrils, and the reaction caused my whole body to go numb like when you walk outside in January. “Well, older women hit on me all the time, but I never did anything about it – until my neighbor, Miss Jill, came along,” he began. “She had a husband who was never home, always off on business or whatever, you know, that sort of deal, and before long she became absolutely crazy for attention.”
“How old was she?”
“Fifty-one, but her plastic surgeries made her look about thirty.”
“ Wow . And how old were you?”
“Well, it started out right after I turned seventeen. And – let me explain!” he said in response to my floored expression. “I went away to Alabama for football camp for six weeks and came back with twenty more pounds of muscle, and the moment she saw me, she started putting on skimpy little outfits to clean her pool and whatnot. But I’m a bit of a dufus about that stuff, and I never noticed a thing. It wasn’t until my friend pointed out how strange it was that Miss Jill was putting on a thong bikini to clean her screened-in pool every single day that I realized something was up.”
My grandfather clock ticked away. “So this Miss Jill lady – did she seduce you?” I asked, leaning forward and slipping into a tense little world where only Ben and his story existed.
“Hold on,” he said, sipping his wine. “This wasn’t some situation where she cornered me late one night and jumped my bones or something. I can’t lie – I wanted her, too. A lot. And I felt really guilty about it. I’d always watched – you know, like, MILF porn, for whatever reason – and I wondered about Miss Jill pretty often. I think I had some sort of fetish for her. At night I’d lay in bed imagining what it’d feel like to take off her bikini bottoms and feel around down there, and then I’d touch myself and pretend it was her. Since she paid me to feed her dogs after school, I started sneaking into her room to poke around, and…well, one day she came home early and found me smelling her underwear drawer.”
“ Wow ,” I said, starting to get a little turned on, even though what we were talking about was admittedly bizarre, and maybe even criminal. My reaction was confusing and maybe even concerning, but I couldn’t stop myself – this was hot. “What’d she do?”
“Well, I couldn’t deny that I wanted something to happen,” he said, looking more than a little ashamed. “She walked up, grabbed me by the chin, and told me I was being bad. I was so turned on and terrified and all these other things, all I could do was stare at her – I think I came a little in my pants right then and there, actually. So she asked me what my mother would say about me smelling the underwear of someone who was her own age, and I said I had no clue, but that she’d be mad. After a really long silence, Miss Jill asked me if I ever thought of her at night, and I nodded, and then she pushed me down her body by my shoulders, shoved my face into her underwear, and told me to smell the real thing.”
I crossed and uncrossed my legs and then reached up to wipe my brow. The air in the room now felt somewhere between “piping hot” and “Las Vegas parking lot in August.”
“Where were
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