Other Men's Wives

 I met "Candace" and "Mitch" at a porn theater outside of Louisville, Kentucky. If you're interested in those details, I have spelled them out in my other blog . After that first encounter, I gave them my number and to my happy surprise, they dialed it a few weeks later.  I arranged to meet them the next time I was in their area for drinks and a no-obligation conversation. Frankly, I didn't expect much other than that. I was easily 20 years older than them, and he had been so quiet and withdrawn at the theater that I wasn't even sure what kind of conversation we might have. We arrived at the same time and the chat that began in the parking lot was predictably stiff. By the time we got to a corner booth, we had (mercifully) made it past the "did you have any trouble finding the place?" and "how often do you come to town?" pleasantries.  "Thanks for meeting with us," he began the transition. "Happy to do it. We didn't...

 My upbringing was fairly repressed. Sex was dirty. Guys were perverts. Nice girls said no. So don't ask, don't look, don't touch, and don't even think about it until you're married.  Of course, like any other red-blooded guy, it was almost all I could think about from the minute I first laid my eyes on a discarded Playboy magazine. It was a frequent topic of conversation among my young friends. And, as the year's passed, I was as committed to touching any part of the female anatomy - and having it touch back - as any man on the planet. My ambitions aside, with the exception of a couple of poorly executed blowjobs and some uncomfortable finger fucking, my experiences as a young man were few. My first year of college afforded me a few bumbling opportunities to improve my skills, but honesty forces me to admit that I was far from a good fuck. And I had yet to experience one from a girl who knew much more about it than I did. I worked a couple of jobs the summer af...