Epilogue III
As my millennial (OMG! I'm making out with a Millennial....at my age!) lover and I lounge around on Sunday afternoon, I realize the pre-pandemic, Sunday afternoon was travel day for me. I'd fly out to the client on Sunday night; fly back home Thursday night. If that week's trip was to Atlanta, which it often was, I'd rendezvous with my married Atlanta lover, the one I shred with Kelli, and get fucked.
I loved getting fucked.
Why isn't my new millennial fucking me? Why is just making out enough for him?
Does he want me to suck his cock? I've never been much into that, I realize.
The man should have to do work, too. He should fuck his woman.
I read the Church bulletin from morning Mass. It talks about what a subtle reading this morning's Gospel reading is, from Chapter 4 of John. The divorced woman who encounters Jesus and flirts with him calls him, progressively, Sir, then Teacher, then Lord, then Messiah, then King.
She is learning about him as she onteracts with him. I'm learning about others in my life during the pandemic. What their sexual desires are. And how they mesh with mine.
My first husband, the Lithuanian cook, deserved better from me. We were a good fit sexually. The Lithuanian divorce attorney hit the jackpot with him. She should thank me everyday for me losing him to her.
The Advest bankers who fucked me were good fits sexually. And I loved the money they had. I should have married one of them.
My second husband, to whom I'm still married, was a terrible fit sexually. We had good sex maybe 4 times in our marriage. 5, tops.
Kelli was a good fit sexually with me. But I'm straight.
I loved fucking her. And fighting her.
My millennial lover isn't going to fuck me. I can tell.
I eonder if he can find me a fight tonight.
> Do you have any lady friend you could invite over on short notice? Would you like watching her and me fight?
> Like, argue? Or actually fight?
> I don't know. Let's see what happens. I'm game for just about anything. As long as she's in my weight class.
> She'll be younger than you. Is that ok?
> How old do you think I am?? [I hope that doesn't sound defensive.]
> 42?? [I get wet. He thinks I'm quite a bit younger than I actually am. Women love that.]
> Ya, around that. And, yes, it's ok if she's younger.
> [He takes out his phone and starts texting. I wonder how he's asking. And how he knows her. And wby he thought of her. Has she mentioned liking to fight?]
To be continued.....