Hitting Forty (Part 4)

Paul looked delicious, laying open and vulnerable, helpless. My eyes roamed his whole body. I looked at Alice, she smiled back mischievously. His hard cock stood up as if reaching out desperately, in terrible need for attention. I took a deep breath, containing the urge to tear him up in a moment. I started going down on him, licking and teasing his cock, then moving to his balls. Alice was smothering him with her beautiful full breasts; her nipples were so hard, that they could put an eye out now! Paul moaned and eagerly sucked on them.

Things kept progressing, and I lost track of everything. It felt like everything was happening all at once. We were drunk, but still had a good head on our shoulders, so we kept moving along. Alice and I felt like we were dancing; we read each other and moved around Paul very smoothly. We moved around, and ended up with Alice sitting on Paul’s face. I was straddling Paul facing Alice, kissing her and playing with her beautiful boobs, pinching her nipples till she would squeal and groan. Riding Paul was like riding a wild animal, he bucked and growled.

Eventually, Alice was riding him, and I sat on the edge of the bed, taking a breather. That’s when Paul broke free of the stockings with a loud growl that made me jump. In one swift move, he flipped Alice, and was on her like a tiger. She was now on her back, and he was on her, pounding her so hard. I moved away, and sat on the little seat I had for my vanity. I started touching myself, as I watched them. I was dripping wet, and I could smell the strong musky scent of sex filling up the room; it was intoxicating.

Paul stopped, and looked at me. I saw a hungry tiger staring at me, the look he gave me made chills go down my spine, and I felt that feeling of dropping fast. I stopped moving, as if I was caught in his gaze. He came to me and took my hand to help me up. I was mesmerized for about two seconds. He suddenly turned me around and bent me over the dresser, and started driving his hard cock into me as if he was trying to nail me to the dresser. He had a handful of my hair caught in his fist, I couldn’t move much. It didn’t take long before I was screaming. It felt like my soul was going to come out of my mouth! I forgot Alice, I forgot everything, I was lost in this ocean of ecstasy.

We woke up all on Alice’s bed, completely naked. Paul was on one end hogging all the blankets. Alice was in the middle, completely naked, face down with her perky bare butt in the air. I was next to Alice holding my unicorn stuffie, also naked.

I woke up first, and got up to get water and find my phone. I came back, and they were waking up. I ran and jumped onto the bed. They tried to move out of the way quickly, but I still landed on parts of them. I was so happy to see that we fit so well together, and also thrilled to have a plan to improve my life. I had an appointment later that day with the recruiter, and was so excited about it.

San Diego is a very busy city, sometimes I want to just sit with myself. When I am in need of a time out, I go to La Jolla Shores. This is a calm happy place for me, it helps me rest and visit myself.

Sitting there I was reflecting on my dating life, and how it has really done nothing for me. I have tried dating, but it never was fulfilling. I think it was because I always agreed to a date with them; I never picked the guy and said “That’s the one,” never. Most of my thoughts were, “Why not?” It usually turned to be a guy who is a perfect gentleman; that is until they get bored of you a couple weeks later, and move on. Usually they lasted about a month, sometimes a little longer. I didn’t really care, because I never really got emotionally involved, not until Paul.

As I was approaching forty, I was starting to become worried. I drifted away from the friends I had when I was twenty, because they started getting married and having children. I was incredibly uncomfortable around them, because I didn’t fit in anymore. I was not into children’s birthday parties; I didn’t want to sit and chat about what diaper works best. I didn’t want to listen to my friends tell me how smart their child was, and discuss every small achievement. I don’t hate children, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think children are a measure of how good a woman you are. The thing is, when I tried to participate in the conversations, I would be told: “But you are not a mom, how do you know?” That statement was like a passive-aggressive way of telling me that I am not good enough. A woman is much more than a child bearing vessel. She can do amazing things, and she is limited only by herself. Motherhood is wonderful, but some women might not be ready for it; it doesn’t make them less of a woman. I started distancing myself, and little by little, as my friends were being swallowed up by the marriage monster. I think society has a lot to do with this. We are all raised to fit a certain expectation; I didn’t learn that lesson well.

I could not see myself sticking to only one person for two months, much less for the rest of my life. I don’t understand how people do that. When I mention it, I am told that, “You will find your other half one day.” And, “When you fall in love you will understand.” I am not quite sure that statement is correct, I just didn’t get it.

I love Paul so very much, but we both have an agreement that we can also see other people. I can’t be everything for him, and I cannot expect him to be everything for me either. Sometimes even great couples need some time apart.

As I sat in the sun watching people walk by, and the waves crashing on the shore, I wondered if something is wrong with me. I was just so different than my friends, and if that man in the black and white Speedos with the perfect tan knew what is going on in the dark parts of my mind, he would run away, instead of trying to talk to me. Instead, he made small talk, and we walked to the store up the street to get Slush Puppies. I had my own way of having them; I carried little bottles of vodka in my purse. He gave me a strange look as I poured two into my Slush Puppies. I offered him one, but he shook his head. He reminded me there was no alcohol allowed at the beach, I said, “You wouldn’t tell on me, would you?” He smiled, and then we walked back. He was an author, he had written several books. He now has a lot of free time to hang out at the beach, and the beach had been a great help with his inspiration. What a life!

I found that men were amusing for a while. They were interesting before you dig in a little deeper, so I tried not to dig too much. I never really wanted to get to know their more intimate details. Not unless I thought we would last more than a couple of months; none of them had that potential. Usually they wanted to have a little fun, and then they moved on. Sex was usually all basically the same, and for this reason, I was starting to take control and have my fun. If I was already there, I might as well. If I don’t take it, I won’t get it.

Another issue I had was that I didn’t like to let my date take control. I silently loathed the way they took me to dinner to a place they picked. They would say “I want to take you here, because I want you to try it out; you will love it.” It seemed it was their way of telling me where I want to go. What made them think they knew what I would love? I am sure they meant well, so I never protested. If my date ordered for me, that usually was a sign that it wouldn’t last more than a few weeks. I know many women who would love that, but it was not me. I did give them a chance, in hopes that I could mellow out and be more “normal.” Unfortunately, all it did was make me defensive and unpleasant. I also despised going in their car anywhere, I liked to drive, and pick MY music. But I had managed, because I was starting to worry that if I didn’t try to be more passive, I’d end up alone. I wasn’t looking for marriage, but for a connection, a partner, a lover.

As I approached forty, I was starting to wonder if I should be looking for marriage. I mean, who marries after forty for the first time? I still was pretty much sure that people are not meant to be monogamous.

My parent’s marriage was more like a business arrangement between friends. They got along ok, but for the most part they were polite to each other, not truly affectionate as you would expect a couple in love to be. They were there for what really mattered, but they were not lovey dovey. I always suspected my dad was up to something, because he was gone too much. He was always busy, and we had a house rule about calling him. He was not to be called on his cell phone; we had to always text first and ask permission to call. He said it was because he might be driving, busy at work, or in a store. It made me wonder, because sometimes mom would call us for dinner, and dad wasn’t there. When we asked her about it, she was not concerned; she said he was probably stuck in traffic. One day I decided to call him, because he was supposed to take George, my youngest brother, to a friend’s birthday party that Saturday. Dad was nowhere to be found, and mom said not to worry (as usual). I was upset, because dad wasn’t answering his texts, so I called. A lady answered, and told me he was busy. I hung up, and shortly after, I got a call from him. I was going to ask who she was, and why was he even at the office on Saturday. I didn’t have a chance; all he did was yell at me for calling like that. George never made it to the party, because dad had the car. Mom sent me to my room for the rest of the day, she was mad because I broke a “dad-rule.”

My family must have had a bad luck streak with men. Aunt Lilly had a husband who treated her badly. Uncle Hector was not beating her, but he was horrid. Sometimes we would go to their house on a Sunday; they had a huge yard, and us kids loved to go there and play in it. I noticed that Aunt Lilly was usually quiet; I always figured she was just that way. But then as I was growing up, I noticed it was because uncle Hector would shut her up quickly.

One day we were all sitting at the dinner table, uncle Hector had prepared the meats out on the grill. Aunt Lilly was bringing in the side dishes from the kitchen. Uncle Hector went on a rant about how bad a cook she is. We were shocked, because he said she was stupid, he really said it out loud, and in front of all of us! He went on further, saying that in all the years they had been married, she had not managed to learn how to make potato salad. Apparently she still made it with the yellow potatoes instead of the red ones, what a disaster, NOT. I got a little frightened by his yelling; Aunt Lilly just sat down quietly and looked down at her plate. My dad asked uncle Hector to tone it down. They argued a little, and then mom changed the subject. I had no idea why nobody intervened for good. I mean truly help her out, and that was not right. When I asked mom, she said I was a kid. What did I know about marriage? She also pointed out that he was not beating her, he loved her; the alcohol was to blame, not him. I disagreed; it was horrible how she was treated, and alcohol shouldn’t be an excuse.

Another great example of a marriage was the “Finger incident.” My mom’s friend Joyce was this wonderful lady, with bright green eyes and fiery red hair; a beautiful woman. She had been married to her husband Lucas for 25 years, and they seemed happy to me. One day, I was in the kitchen doing homework, when I heard mom and Joyce talking in the living room over coffee. It was a pleasant conversation, in which Joyce then said she had not accomplished what she had wanted in life. Mom talked to her, and told her it was never too late. Joyce said she had always wanted to be a nurse; she went to school for it, and even graduated way back then. The problem was that she married Lucas around that time. As soon as they were married, Lucas demanded that she stay home and have children; he said that was what wives do. So she agreed, and loved the idea, but now her child is grown, and she never got to be a nurse.

Mom told her in more words than this, that if she didn’t like her reality, she should make some changes. When she didn’t come to our Christmas party a week later, mom was concerned. We found out the day after Christmas, that she had gone home that very night after talking to mom, and shot her husband. She had gone home with all this brewing in her heart. When she walked into the house, she heard voices and sounds coming from her son Eric’s room. She was thinking Eric returned from college to visit, so she went upstairs. She was excited to see him, so without hesitating, she went into his room. That didn’t go well at all.