Somewhere Under the Arch

I realized when my marriage of 15 years ended that I didn't want to do that again. It's not that I have anything against marriage, it's just that there are some creatures that simply don't thrive in captivity. I'm one of them. Instead, I took my show on the road. Taking my lead from those Travel Channel programs, where the host samples the cuisine from various stops along the road, I decided to do the same with sex. Do women in Dallas taste the same as those in Boston? Does a California girl give head like a Georgia peach? These are my journeys. This is my odyssey.



After my marriage broke up, I decided to do some traveling. I hadn't been to visit my brother and his family in a long time, so I headed north to the St. Louis suburb of O'Fallon for a week.

My niece and nephew were happy to spend some time with Uncle Dick and, having no children of my own, I took the opportunity to spoil them rotten. At the end of the week, I had arranged to take them to Six Flags and, between them and the oppressive Missouri humidity, I was worn out. We left the park before sunset and I gave in on the way home and took them to one of those "family friendly" restaurants (St. Louis is known for its big arch -- this restaurant had two of them). We ate, laughed and then they ran off to the Fun Room to burn off yet more energy.

As I watched them play, I noticed a very attractive older woman who was also keeping an eye on one of the kids in the play area. She was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and white shorts and had obviously spent some time in the sun. She saw me looking at her and smiled.

I gestured toward the game room with my soda cup. "Which one is yours?" I asked.

She shook her head. "My youngest is 27," she said. "But that one is my grandson."

I pretended to walk over to get a better look at the child she was gesturing to but actually I was trying to get closer to her. "My niece and nephew," I told her, gesturing to Alan and Courtney, who were climbing stairs to a slide. "I just took them to Six Flags and they still have energy to burn."

She laughed. "Six Flags is like crack to kids that age."

I introduced myself. She said her name was "Megan." I sat next to her and she didn't object. Over the next 45 minutes, I found out that she was divorced -- her ex was some kind of corporate executive who left her for a younger woman. She'd had an excellent attorney and didn't have to work, but had started taking photography classes.

As we talked, I couldn't understand why her husband would be interested in a younger woman. She had a dazzling smile, obviously worked out and was extremely intelligent. She wore her blonde hair off her shoulders and her perfume was perfect for a hot day -- understated and soft.

I told her about my divorce and she listened, then offered some advice from her own experience. "The first six months to a year are the worst," she said. "You'll want to rush out and buy a new wardrobe and try to fix all the things you think are wrong with you. Don't. You're fine just as you are. Just try to relax and enjoy your freedom."

When she realized how long we'd been talking, Megan blushed and said she had to get her grandson home. I didn't want her to go.

"Look, I'm in town until Saturday," I told her. "I really like to buy you dinner tomorrow, if you'd let me."

"I'm really not in the habit of..."

I interrupted before she could say no. "Pick a restaurant, anywhere you like. I'll meet you there at seven and we can continue our conversation."

She looked like she was thinking about it. "Do you know your way to The Hill?"

She selected a restaurant named Giovanni's on the Hill. (I wisely called ahead for a reservation.) I had the waiter select a bottle of wine for us and we picked up our conversation as if we were long lost friends reunited.

Megan looked beautiful in a very classy light summer dress. She didn't over-accessorize as many woman her age were guilty of doing. She wore a cross on a thin white gold or silver chain around her neck. Her makeup was light.

After a few glasses of wine -- and about midway through our dinner -- Megan got silent and just looked at me.

"What?" I asked, thinking I had marinara on my sport coat or shirt or face.

"Why did you ask me to dinner?"

"Because I was enjoying our conversation last night," I told her.

"You just want to find out if this tan is all over," she said and took another sip of wine.

"Not at all," I said. "Actually, I'm a big fan of tan lines."

"Do you have any idea how old I am?"

I shook my head. "Not going to get pulled into that one. That's like when a woman asks you if this dress makes her butt look big." She smiled that dazzling smile. "I'm 62 years old."

I tried but I guess I couldn't hide the surprise on my face.

She smiled and nodded. "Yes. 62. Still having those fantasies? Or did you just go soft for the night?"

I didn't know why she was trying to shock me but I figured two could play at that game. I took my napkin off my lap and looked down. "Nope," I said. "Still up. But he might just want dessert."

"Well," Megan said with a devilish look, "I am from Missouri. You might just have to show me."

We both started laughing so hard that we drew looks from other tables. The waiter walked over and asked if we needed anything.

"No," Megan said. "I think we're ready to go."

We talked about whether I should try to follow her back to her place, but decided it would be best for me to leave my car and just ride with her. It was a rental so I wasn't too concerned about it.

When we got to her house, I could see that Megan had indeed done well in her divorce. She asked me to open some wine and went upstairs. When she returned, she was wearing a short silk robe. "I thought you might like to relax in the hot tub," she said as I handed her a glass of wine.

I leaned forward and kissed her lightly. "I don't have a suit," I said, "and he's still sitting up."

She moaned and slipped her hand across the front of my slacks. "Good."

I ran a finger down the inside closure of her robe, opening it as my finger slipped lower.

Megan had the body of a 30-year-old. Her breasts were on the small side so she didn't have any middle-age sag. There was a scar across her abdomen, probably from a C-section, and her tummy wasn't as tight as a teenager's, but she was very desirable. She'd trimmed her pubic hair to a thin "landing strip." The carpet didn't match the drapes but was damn sexy.

And she had tan lines. Her pale breasts against the darkness of her skin, capped by smooth pink nipples made my mouth water.

We sat in the hot tub and kissed and necked and explored each other's bodies for as long as our skin could stand it. When we went to the bedroom, my clothes were still in a pile on the dining room floor. (My mini-recorder was in my jacket pocket.)

Megan was a romantic when it came to making love. Not only did I kiss her body from head to toe, but she also wanted to kiss mine. I loved feeling her tongue on my nipples. She kissed her way down my body and sat naked on the end of the bed. Then she started sucking my big toe and looking up at me, teasing me. It was like she was showing me what she could do with her mouth. I was moaning and writhing on the bed until she released my toe and began kissing back up my leg.

Again, I had to question the sanity of a man who would let this woman go. Megan kissed my hard cock from my balls to the tip. She took the shaft in both hands and ran her tongue over the protruding knob. Then, slowly and tantalizingly, she lowered her mouth as far as she could over my cock. She sucked while she ran her tongue over the bottom of the shaft and tried to swallow more.

She had one of those big wooden freestanding mirrors by the wall and I could see the other angle in it -- her sexy ass in the air, my splayed legs, the back of her head bobbing on my midsection.

I reached down to touch her and without taking her mouth off my cock, she rotated her body until she straddled my face. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my tongue in her pussy, feeling her moan on my cock as I did so. She was wet and had a very rich but not at all unpleasant flavor. The more I ate her, the more I loved the taste.

I was to learn that Megan was still a little old fashioned in her lovemaking. When I tried to toy with her ass, she reached back and grabbed at my arm. I was also fairly certain that if I'd tried to slap her ass, even playfully, our session would have ended at that moment.

But she did love tasting herself on my lips. We kissed until we couldn't breathe, then I rolled her gently onto her back. She had condoms in a drawer by the night table. She opened the foil, rolled it over my cock with both hands and then said, "It's been awhile. Go slowly, please."

I rubbed my cock on her clit, getting the rubber good and wet, before I slid slowly into her.

And it's here I have to say, mature women know what they're doing when it comes to sex. Megan started a fluid motion of her hips, both thrusting and circling and feeling like nothing I've very experienced before. She wrapped her legs around me and reached over her head with both arms. As I rose up, she stayed with me until only our genitals were connected, her hips off the bed, legs locked tightly around me. Her eyes opened and she watched me. It was like she was doing an erotic dance for me while lying on her back.

I stayed with her rhythm, slowly moving against her. It was more like grinding than thrusting. It didn't take her very long. I saw it first in her eyes. She reached down and grabbed my ass in both hands and started grinding faster.

I've seen a lot of cum faces. Megan's was absolutely beautiful. I think what I liked best was, after the initial pleasure waves hit, she opened her eyes wide and looked at me and came again. I loved knowing she was coming for me and not a fantasy.

She came again two more times, in the same position, before I finally filled the condom.

We kissed and held each other until I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke the next morning to Megan bringing my clothes up to hang over a chair in the bedroom. She kissed me and asked if I wanted orange juice. When she slipped out of the room to get it, I slipped my mini-recorder under the bed.

After we'd both sipped some cold OJ, I started kissing under her silk robe. We had a very slow, tender lovemaking session but neither of us lasted very long. And it was one of the few mutual orgasms I've ever experienced. That is the audio I've included here. Sorry about the bed sounds. Like I said, the recorder was under the bed.

While it was an encounter we both enjoyed, neither of us had illusions about it being a long-term relationship. Still, we're friends on Facebook and I have to admit a certain amount of longing to meet once again somewhere under the arch.