The Truth Mirror

Before I get to the hot and heavy parts, let me tell you how it all began and how we all got together.

------------------

Today, I decided to add a simply framed 8"x10" mirror to my daily life. I'm going to put it on my desk, next to my all-in-one computer. No, I'm not vain, think I'm a handsome man or even into shocking, horror pictures. Retired and secure now, I need a way to keep my ego in check so the young lovelies don't have such an easy time empting my wallet. A little eye contact, a compliment or two and some feigned interest and I imagine they truly want to spend time with me, be friends, be travel buddies or go to a local event with me. My reflection will hopefully bring reality back into my distorted thoughts.

In the mirror, I will see a once handsome, up-beat, intelligent man, in good physical shape, who has a good sense of humor. However, I will also see what the young lovelies see, the wrinkles, age-spots and sags that come with my 60+ years. Four years ago I was widowed after a good marriage of thirty-five years. I freely admit, I do not know how to be single or date in a world that is very different from 1975. I don't seem to meet very many, healthy, active women my age. Subtract, twenty or thirty years and I meet dozens, and they fool me easily. If I look into my mirror, I'll remember that they are being nice, polite, maybe doing their job, maybe enjoying time at the bar on a slow night or maybe playing around with an "older man" fetish that they have no intention of making reality.

With my new prospective, I want to remember that when I was in my 20s, 30s and 40s, I never had a thought of being the intimate friend of a 60+ year-old woman. I did not fantasize about them. I did not once consider spending a hot and heavy evening with one, traveling with one or going out on a date with one. I might have missed out on something special, but, still, those are the facts.

My great epiphany happened last month. It was the combined results of flirting with two women. The first female is a gorgeous 50 year old, who I have tried to interest for three years. She is friendly, attentive, flirtatious and physical, yet she doesn't return my interest or accept my offers for dates outside of where she works. She is so beautiful the younger, more-handsome men pursue her. I'm sure that really highlights our age difference and physical differences. About the time of my 200th rejection from Miss Beautiful, a 26 year-old stripper started to work where I play pool once a week. I didn't even know her name on Father's Day when my son paid her to dance for me. Over the next couple of weeks, we only casually talked. However, the week after that she greeted me, "Hello, Daddy." That took me back. That had never happened before. I teased with her some and a couple of hours later she said, "I would like for you to be my Daddy."

I'm not an uninformed idiot, just and idiot. I knew she was single, struggling to get back into shape after the birth of her first child, had no skills and her come-on was just to make her life financially easier for a while. She had started stripping three months ago and was not earning very much. She is short, soft, has a great sly smile, her caesarian scar is prominent and she has a "Girl-next-door" shy smile. Several of the other dancers were up in arms about her. She needed money so bad she was "secretly" discounting her table dances from the usual $20/song rate and letting herself be touched freely.

With the last word of her sentence still ringing in my ears, I finally faced how the younger women see me. I was looking for a friend and companion. I was not thinking in terms of having to pay a young woman to pretend to be my friend. I'm sure there are a few women who like to be with older men, but "few" is the main word in that sentence. Being well schooled in business, the 80/20 rule is part of all my logic. My sexually fogged thinking cleared long enough for my brain to call out "Bingo! Look in your own age bracket or pay the going rate and keep shopping until you are satisfied with what you rent, the odds are you will never find a 30 or 40 year old loving companion."

To test my new theories about just how unappealing an "old guy" is to the young lovelies, I set up an experiment. I selected ten women. My 50 year old, in demand beauty, who always says the right things to keep me coming back, was on the top of the list. My needy new mom, looking for "Daddy" was second. I compiled a second list of the excuses that I thought I would get: previous engagement; can't get baby sitter; I'll have company; have to work, etc. Then I selected a non-threatening, short and fun activity. The Mount Hood Railroad had just started its beautiful fall four hour rides. I offered each of my lovelies the choice of a train ride with a wonderful Sunday Champagne Brunch or a weekday evening dinner ride. I did not mention any specific dates, just to make rejecting me a little tougher.

I checked my mirror before every contact. My long pursued beauty dismissed me so smoothly that I felt I should say, "Thank You." She was so experienced; no man ever knew where he stood with her. Then the very young cutie looking for "Daddy" to provide room and board, couldn't get a baby sitter, even before she selected any date on the calendar. After a few days, I had worked down to number seven on my list. I was getting smug, being able to predict reasons for my rejection.

Number seven was Candy, a woman who needs her make-up to hide some acne scars. She is half my age, intelligent, caring, very pretty all made up, with soft rounded curves, some extra pounds and has always shown an interest in me. However, she is friendly with everyone at the restaurant and for five years, I've dismissed her "interest" as how she treats all the flirtatious men. Many, many times we talked a minute here, a minute there, teased and flirted, as she served local customers at her ten assigned tables. Twice, she even had a late lunch with me before her evening shift. We talked about her nine year old daughter, her two-year old marriage and her financial problems. She's had many more sex partners than I have had and a wider range of sexual experiences. Still she is fun, mentally sharp and easy to talk with. Her life is strained and I sense that I'm a comfortable safe rock she can be open with. We were talking late at the restaurant while she cleaned; she surprised me.

"Jack, I've always told you that I would love to be your date when you need one for outings. I guess, I didn't make myself clear. You make the decisions. I will really enjoy going with you. I don't get out much. You tell me what to wear and where to be and at what time. It sounds like a lot of fun."

"Won't this cause some problems for you and Bob? Will this be some big secret?"

It was a few minutes after midnight. She had just gotten off work. She smelled like fried food. We held hands and walked down the street toward her apartment. In a block or two, we came across a closed restaurant with its outside tables and chairs, surrounded by a locked, low wrought iron fence. We stood by its hip high gate and kept talking.

"I'm not sure why he married me. You've seen me at my best and my worst and we still enjoy all our times together. Bob likes me all dolled up, outgoing and sexy but he does not even want me around for the 90% of normal life. He comes alive when we party but he gets angry when we talk about my daughter needing things, her school, our bills, house chores, work and relatives. Most of the time, he is not interested in sex, touching or even talking. He said that we would have an open relationship when we got married. He has gone out some with other women. I don't think he would care, or even ask, if I went out."

"I did not mean to uncover such a sore spot. I would really enjoy your company but do you want to go with me or just get back at "old hubby?"

"That was to the point. I enjoy being with you and I think you enjoy being with me. I feel good about me when I'm with you. You make me feel alive. You tease but don't push. I'm trying to find where I'm wanted and be with people who treat me as if I have a brain, who care about me and act as if I matter. I don't think I'm using you. I'm not thinking of making Bob jealous or even getting his attention. I think he has moved on, believes he is now above me, is embarrassed to be with me and feels that he is stuck with a lowly waitress."

"The thought of spending time with you, doing anything, makes me happy. Do you want to bring your daughter?"

"Maybe next time."

"Don't want to have to introduce me as your perverted Uncle Jack?"

"Remember, I've met your grand-daughters. Sydney would love to be spoiled half as much as you spoil them."

"Cute little girls, right out of the womb, know how to wrap me around their pinky fingers and get anything they want."

"Somehow, I missed that lesson. Why don't you teach me?"

"You already know too much about me. We have too many common friends. I don't think, I would be the one teaching. I suspect, I will learn about you, like what I learn and then yearn for something you cannot even guess."

"Want to bet?"

"Okay, I'll bring you a present when you go on the train with me if you can guess where I was going with my thoughts."

"You enjoy pleasing your woman and you enjoy her taste even more."

"Who told you such a wild fantasy?"

"I should not answer that."

"But you will."

"Yes, that lovely you've been chasing for years, enjoys letting all of us mortal females know how much she knows about her men."

"Is that what I am, one of her men?"

"Am I telling you anything new?"

"Not really, mentally, I know my place with her; it is just hard to hear from another person. I'm wondering what you think of me for pursuing you when I know you are married and even know your guy?"

"We are grown up. Reality doesn't change because of rules our parents taught us."

"I am twice your age. Doesn't that bother you?"

"A little, but I am attracted to you and have not had much luck with men my own age. Why are you pushing me for negatives?"

"Sorry. I was doing that. I haven't learned how to date in the modern world."

"You've got baggage; I've got baggage. Can we put that to rest for a while and just enjoy some time with each other?"

Since I was eight, people have told me how smart I am. This rejected, lonely woman just said one of the most intelligent things I ever heard. I was in total agreement but did not know how to tell her.

"Yes, Pretty One, let's enjoy each other. If feelings get too intense or life has to close in, let's promise to just blurt it out and be totally honest."

"I like that plan. When are we going on our train ride?"

"Today is Thursday, how about a week from Sunday for champagne brunch? I promise to get you home early."

"Maybe I don't want you to get me home early,"

It was time I showed my spots. I stepped over the short fence and helped her follow. I backed her into the metal railing, pulled her head back with her hair and kissed her. Her mouth opened and I pushed my tongue between her lips and she nursed at it. Our soft kisses grew more demanding. She liked her tongue sucked.

"Candy, do not swallow."

I sat down on the nearest armless chair and pulled her to straddle my lap. The first thing to touch was her damp hot crotch onto my twisted half-hard cock. I kissed her again and she opened her mouth and let her wetness flow into me. Our kiss went on for several minutes. We exchanged breaths, tasted each other and my tongue slipped all around inside her mouth, even between her teeth and her lips.

Her breathing was ragged and her eyes sparkled but did not focus. Her nipples strained against her bra and blouse to point at the world. Her hips tipped forward and ground into my very interested cock. "Damn, Jack, that kiss felt good."

I took her hand, held it between our chests and pushed it slowly down. "That is too bad, because you do no excite me at all."

Her fingers closed around my very uncomfortable cock and it throbbed in her hand.

"If you touched me, you would discover that I am dry and as disinterested as you are."

How could I leave such a challenge hanging without response? Her jeans were no mystery to me. I popped the button and was proud of myself. Just as easily she opened my belt and the button on the top of my jeans. I pulled her zipper down and felt the pressure on my cock let up about the same time. I thrust the head of my already wet cock into her inquisitive hand.

"You have on panties. Are you going to leave them with me so I can suck the taste of you out of them all night while I rub my cock raw thinking about you?"

"That is the only reason I wore them."

My fingers slipped into her. There was little resistance and lots of slippery wetness. Her thumb rubbed the slippery precum all about my helmet as I pressed into her g-spot and rubbed my thumb in gentle circles over her clit.

"If you keep that up, you are going to make my pussy cum on your fingers."

"I'm going to keep this up."

"After I cum, I'm going to pull your pants down and suck you off right here in the street."

"I'll still be licking your juices from my fingers when I pump your mouth full."

"I promise not to spill a drop and let you smell your cum on my breath when I kiss you."

My head was spinning. Never had I had a woman match me word for word, fantasy for fantasy and challenge for challenge. I did not relent. My fingers thrust into her and her hips thrust back. We could hear her squishing wetness and I whispered to her, "You are a mean woman. You know how much I want to taste your juices and you are going to cum on my fingers. Will you always tease and torment me like this? I have dreamed of an impossible woman who would love the tastes of her body and mine mixed together as much as I do. But that is just an impossible fantasy. Isn't it?"

Candy bore down hard on to my fingers driving her g-spot into my finger-tips and filled the palm of my hand with magic from her body. She knew how I wanted to taste her, yet her hand pushed and pulled at my cock. I was close but was in control until she spoke.

"Let me watch you drink my cunt's juices from your hand while I jack you off."

I forgot about my cock and began to savor every drop she had given me. When I sucked and licked my palm, she moaned and I came in hers and on her belly. In the still air, the area around our little dark table smelled like pussy to me and sperm to her.

She copied my moves; I watched her lick the puddle of my cum from her palm into her lovely mouth. My mouth was still full of her wetness. She kissed me and mixed my offering with hers. We traded back and forth until she swallowed, leaned back and looked at me in triumph. Together, we used my hand to scrape the rest of my offering from her belly and hold my loaded fingers in front of her lips. She pushed her head forward, opened her mouth and drove my fingers into my own mouth. Our tongues dueled until she slid down my body to her knees, then pulled and sucked the last of my cum out of my softening cock.

She looked up at me, with my cock resting on her lips, "Sorry, I got the sequence wrong. Promise to give me more chances to get it right?"

"I promise. We should try this lying down, naked and facing in opposite directions."

A car or two went by. We reluctantly pulled ourselves together and continued walking down the street toward where she lived. In the little landscaped alcove leading to her apartment, I admitted that I might have found a sexy, young woman who could ignore my wrinkles and enjoy my company. My mirror had given me a dozen reasons, I might not be good enough to please her. However, for this moment, I chose to think of only how good we could be together.

As we neared her front door, I told her, "You were right, I could taste my cum in your mouth."

"And I could taste my juices in yours."

"Next time, let's do a really good job mixing us together in your belly. We can share the over flow that runs down you legs."

"If it taste any better, you should plan on being in and out of me all night."

"Don't you like mornings. Men have the most testosterone in the mornings."

"If we both cum until we fall back to sleep, I promise never to work a breakfast shift again."

By the three steps that went up to her door, I was honest and said my goodbye, "You are more of a delight to me than you could possibly imagine. I'll see you at work tomorrow." I knew I could not kiss her or touch her; someone might see. I squeezed her hand and turned to walk back toward my car.

Candy started to walk away from her appartment just as I was leaving. "Where are you going, "Pretty One?""

"Just a few doors down, to pick up Sydney from my mom's. Our house is dark, the mail is in the slot and Bob's car is not here. It does not look like he is coming home again tonight. He has not picked her up."

"Do you walk home alone each night that you work?"

"We only have one old car. Bob does not work regular. If my mom didn't live close enough to keep Sydney after school, we wouldn't even have enough food to eat."

"Is he into drugs?"

"Meth, he can stay up for days."

"That crap will take everything you both own; it can change nice gentle people into abusive monsters. Please be careful."

We did not say another word. My desire for her clouded my mind, I started to kiss her good night at her mom's front door but she stopped me just in case mom was watching. I nodded that I understood, squeezed her hand again and walked back up the street.

-----------------------

I had been delaying three relatively minor surgeries for over a year. The time seemed right to bunch them all together and use the same month to recover from all of them. For the third time, I had two spots that had to come off my face with Mohs surgery, one sebaceous cyst on my neck needed to be cut out and the big item, have the surgeon put some plastic mesh into my belly to repair a hernia on the right side of my bellybutton. Nothing serious, but the hernia repair would require that I not pick up anything heavy for two months. Scheduling worked out perfectly and I was expecting to be grounded starting October 26.

Candy's and my mid-September Sunday brunch was a lot of fun. We had to remember to look at the beautiful scenery, orchards and early fall colors. I learned about all her dreams, the silly things that had happened to her and we thoroughly enjoyed an unpressured, friendly four hour trip with good food. On the way to her house, she admitted, "I don't know where Bob is. He hasn't been home for two nights."

"Does this happen a lot?"

"Several times in the last six months. He says I drive him away by bringing up his drugs and not wanting Sydney to see him stoned or taking them."

"So your mom is keeping her today again?"

"Yes, and I have to retrieve her because mom has a new beau who is spending more and more time at her house. They want to go out tonight. I'd ask you in but I don't know what's happening with Bob and I don't want to put you through some bad scene."

"I understand; nothing can detract from how much fun I had on our train ride today."

"I talked all the time. I bet your ears are tired."

"Not at all. Call me or text me your schedule. I'll come in for lunch or dinner and tell you all that I have planned for myself next month."

I did not hear from Candy all week. Her boss said she was taking some time off to get her daughter settled in school. That did not make sense. Sydney was a good student, loved school and had started back weeks ago. I sent Candy a text message that could not cause problems, "Call and confirm work schedule?"

My cell phone rang about ten that evening while I was shooting pool. I took my call outside. Candy had been crying and was still struggling. "Jack, the night after our trip, Bob flipped out, slapped Sydney and knocked her down. She has a bruise on her face that would raise questions at school. Bob is still not working. I'm afraid of leaving her alone with him."