Well, C, listening to the story, I’d say that the man, the one doing the licking and touching, is one lucky guy. And to hell with the middle-aged, the lucky guy didn’t even think about that.
Carol leaning forward, whispering. One lucky woman too, R, deprived for so long, and now she’s got this man with his hard shapely tasty cock. My toy, for me to play with.
Carol becoming more serious. One thing that makes me think, R, that time we first met, you changing my wheel, flexing your biceps, making my hormones go all zingy, well, it was just a few months after my father died, I think since that time I’ve been a different person, less uptight, maybe if the same circumstances had happened a year earlier I’d never have made the leap, agreed to coffee, nothing would have happened.
Carol looking into my eyes, searching for meaning. Me thinking, lots I could say here, seen it in other women, liberated by their fathers’ deaths, repressions suddenly lifted. But staying silent, letting her talk.
So R, what I now think, the man I married was someone my father approved of. In fact, when I look at my husband now, what I see is just another version of my father. A good person, I suppose, just not someone I’m in love with. And not someone to have sex with, it would feel incestuous.
My hand on the bottle of water, filling her glass, then my own. Hey C, that’s quite big stuff there, breaking out of a father’s sclerotic grip, maybe you should chat it through with a therapist, there’s a lot there you probably wouldn’t want a lover to know.
Sipping the water. A difficult moment. Not wanting to push her away, not wanting to get sucked into the badlands. Stroking her cheek, leaning forward, kissing her. Hey honey, your past’s what made you, what I want to share is what’s yet to come.
