It Pays to Advertise
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If I tried to describe myself to someone I’d say that I am an athletic, well-built, 44 year old man, with a reasonable amount of intelligence. I am average in the looks department; I’m no male model, but I believe I still attract attention from the female species. I have been married once but my wife died when she was only 28. It was a car accident. I was in a terrible state after her death, but since then I’m just grateful that she didn’t die from some dreadful disease like others who have died young. We didn’t have any kids and I have remained single since that time. This status has been by choice; I enjoy my own company as well as female company – whenever the occasion presents itself. I seem to get on great with people in general, but I get on better with people that are older than me, especially older women.
An unusual idea came to me not long after I’d paid a visit to my friend Ken’s Liquor Store. I’ll explain more about that idea later in this story, but I’ll tell you about Ken first. He’s not only the store owner, he also manages the place. Ken is married, loves his wife to bits, and he likes his “extra-curricular activities” (E.C.A.’s) more than anyone else I know.
I was at Ken’s store a couple of days ago. We were talking about business in general and ‘quality-control’ testing some of his stock. It was just after 5.00pm and as a number of the local businesses began to close for the day the liquor store got busier. Ken excused himself for a few minutes and went out to help the two staff running the check-outs. Twenty minutes later and the ‘rush-hour’ began to slow down again. He left the staff to look after the store and returned to the back-room to continue our conversation.
According to Ken, most of his E.C.A.’s seem to be older women, “You know Dave, I just can’t get enough of them. I don’t know what it is but they really seem to think that this time is going to be their last… and my God, they go for it like bunny rabbits on a warm day in Watership Down. I definitely wouldn’t choose a twenty something over a fifty or sixty something after some of the experiences I’ve had in the last couple of years in this very room.”
Looking at his watch, Ken said, “Give it about another twenty to thirty minutes and you’ll see what I’m saying.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s Tuesday. At about 5.45, a woman you may have seen at the post office in town will be in here to join me for a quiet drink. She’s a friend”. With this Ken began to stick one of his fingers in his mouth, right up to the second, then he went to the third knuckle, almost choking himself in the process. He rolled it around, covering it in saliva, and then moved it in and out as though he was loosening up a very tight pussy. “When I say ‘friend’ Dave, I mean… this woman gives the best blow-jobs I have ever had in my life, I kid you not – I have had my fair share of good blow-jobs, but these are something else. What makes it interesting is that she is at least 57 and she’s single… again. Husband died two years ago. Gorgeous piece of ass like you will not believe!”
I couldn’t remember the woman he was talking about, but if she was going to be here in the next half hour I would probably have my chance to see her in person. I was certainly interested to see this maestro of the blow-job.
“When she arrives,” Ken said, “stay for a polite amount of time – say five or ten minutes, make conversation as though you have no idea what is going to happen, then shoot through at the same time the two staff out there close up the store at 6.00pm. Tuesday is the earliest closing day of the week, so I’ve arranged ‘a stocktake’ as far as my wife is concerned. When you go out the front door, go around the side and come in through this entrance here, behind these boxes.” He said this while pointing toward a stack of cardboard boxes up against the outside wall of the room. “You’ll see what I’m on about from there. You’ll have a better view there than you get from the best seat at the movies.” Ken took a big sigh and said, “Dave you will not go back to the younger ones after you’ve seen this mate!”
I have to admit, I couldn’t wait for this little spectacle to begin. I was getting horny just thinking about it. My lust for older women was unknown to Ken, but he obviously felt the same way.
Where Ken suggested I take up my vantage point would definitely allow me a clear view into the ‘back-room’ as he called it. This part of the store was almost in darkness so there’s no way I would be seen by anyone inside the room. The cardboard boxes were adjacent to a reinforced steel roller-door where deliveries were made during the day. A small door, which would not have been out of place in Fort Knox, was to the left of this and Ken explained that he would leave it open for my entry and the roller door would be shut and bolted. All I had to do was re-lock the door after I’d made entry. After the show was over and the woman had gone on her way, Ken would then let me out so there would be no alarms istanbul escort going off and cops crawling all over the place.
The ‘room’ that Ken referred to was in fact his office. It was a sizeable room, with a desk in one corner, on the same wall as the door leading into the place. The desk was complete with computer, scanner and printer, and a chest of drawers sat next to this with a fax machine and a coffee machine competing for space on top. Against the opposite wall there was a leather sofa, and to either side of this there were matching leather arm chairs, a coffee table lay in-between. The fourth wall had a trestle-table that doubled as a ‘boardroom’ table and a place where Ken could spread out his paper-work. The windows above the table were the ones I would be able see through, but nobody would be able to see me.
As my mind was trying to take in what we’d arranged, there was a shout from one of the staff, “Ken, the woman from the post office is here… are you buying stamps after hours again?” I don’t think Ken’s secret was as secret as he thought. I hoped that the woman hadn’t heard the remark.
Ken yelled, “OK, I’ll be there in a sec.” He looked at me and said, “Everything understood?”
“Yes, no worries.”
Moments later Ken left to greet his visitor. He soon reappeared with Brenda.
Brenda was a well dressed woman who appeared to be only an inch or two shorter than Ken, and he was at least 5’10”. She didn’t have higher than normal heels on her shoes so she was only a fraction taller than she would be in bare feet.
After Ken made the introductions and offered us drinks he went out into the store to help with the closing up process.
Brenda seemed really friendly toward me and explained that she was the Manager at the post office branch about a mile up the road from Ken’s store. She said she had worked at the post office for several years, and in fact had only started there full time after her husband died. “I met Ken a few months ago when I came into his store for some sherry, of all things, to add to a recipe I was making for dinner. We have been friends ever since. I often call in for a hello and a quick drink on my way home from work on Tuesdays. He told me it was his easiest work day, so I don’t think I’m intruding too much if I stick to only that day of the week.” She smiled innocently, but I couldn’t help wondering what she would say if she knew that I was fully aware of her E.C.A.’s with Ken?
Her hair was salt and pepper, with auburn being the predominant colour. I thought that the grey flecks made it look better than just auburn by itself. It was cut quite short and framed a face that I immediately thought of as beautiful. I would not have known she was 57 if I hadn’t been told prior to our meeting. She looked to be about my own age, maybe even less. Her figure was obviously obtained from hard work, maybe aerobics or some other gym discipline. She certainly wasn’t built the way she was from only sitting behind a desk. This woman reinforced all of the reasons why I like older women so much. Within minutes I was talking to her like we had been friends for years.
Ken came back in just after 6.00 and asked if he could top up our drinks before he officially shut down the store to the public. As this was my cue to get scarce I said, “No thanks Ken, I’m off. I have to be at dinner at a friends place by 7.00.” I said my goodbyes and Ken showed me out through the store front. With a nod of the head, and a quick wink to Ken, I went around the side of the store and in through the small door in the back wall of the building. I quietly locked the door and made my way to my selected spot behind the boxes just as Ken was coming back through the darkened interior of the store. The lights were still on in the back room, so I was able to see the inside as though it were a stage set.
Ken is the same age as me; in fact we went to the same schools as we were growing up. He has managed to get himself a bit of a paunch since then – probably from working in the liquor industry, but in general terms he still looks OK.
As he came into the room he smiled at Brenda, reached for his drink from the coffee table and sat in one of the armchairs. She was sitting on the sofa opposite; she re-crossed her legs to get more comfortable, and then said, “Your friend Dave seems like a nice guy Ken?”
“Yes, he’s a great guy; he’s been a friend since we started school together at the age of five. We went right through the whole education thing, all the way to doing the same business degree at university.”
“Is he married?”
Ken smiled and said, “No he’s not; why do you fancy him Brenda?”
“Well he does seem like a person that I’d like to meet again, and as the liaison that we have is purely sexual, we can’t exactly call it a love affair can we?”
Apart from being able to see the room as well as a TV screen in my home, I could also hear every word as clear as a bell. The conversation didn’t seem to be going şişli escort the way that Ken had planned, and he seemed to have completely forgotten that I was there.
There was a petulant note in his voice as Ken said, “You don’t seem to complain about your bit-on-the-side with me every Tuesday Brenda?”
“No, that’s true. I missed sex so much after my husband died that I was pleased when we struck up this once a week thing. It’s uncomplicated and at least I get to ‘blow-off-some-steam once in a while, so to speak.” She smiled again, and then laughed a little at the pun. Ken couldn’t help but smile back. He knew that there was no way he was going to maintain what he had with Brenda, she wanted more than just a sordid little affair in a back room of a liquor store. However, if it was going to end he would attempt to get his final blow job and call it a day.
“We seem to have come to a crossroads, don’t we?”
“Yes we have,” she said. “I wanted to call in one last time and say goodbye Ken. You have been kind to me so I thought that I’d be kind to you, one more time.” With this, she got up from the sofa and walked the few paces to where Ken was sitting; she knelt before him, in between his legs. She took his drink from his hand and laid it on the coffee table. I looked on and felt a stirring in my groin.
Her experienced hands reached over and unfastened the belt holding up Ken’s pants. The buttons and zipper were next, then with one fluid movement she pulled them over his hips and down past his knees. The pants continued the rest of the way to his ankles, and finally lay against the rug on the floor. Brenda reached forward again and pulled the waistband of Ken’s boxers outwards. She pulled them out further than normal so she could avoid snagging them on his erection. They quickly joined his pants around his ankles.
It seemed strange to be watching this live show with Ken and Brenda as the stars. It was the first time that I had ever done anything like this in my life. Despite my slight embarrassment I was fascinated. What made the situation embarrassing for me was actually seeing Ken’s erection. I had seen him in the showers in the past, but really not taken any notice. He was just one of my friends having a shower on those occasions. Nine times out of ten his cock was flaccid when he was in the shower anyway. This time his cock was rigid. What really surprised me was that it was so small in comparison to my own. It was not all that much bigger when it was rigid than it was when it was flaccid. Even as I thought this, I couldn’t help but feel a bit strange about comparing size. Ken’s cock, even bloated as it was with all the veins sticking out, it was probably only five inches long. What was impressive was when Brenda bowed her head and in one swoop she took the whole of Ken’s shaft into her mouth in one movement. There was no gagging, there was no hesitation, and it just went in right up to the point where his balls were resting against her chin. Ken simply made a loud groaning noise and his eyes shut… a look of ecstasy on his face.
Brenda was certainly a maestro in the art of blow jobs. For the next few minutes her head bobbed up and down with Ken’s complete cock disappearing and re-appearing from her lips. Saliva was dripping down the shaft, making the pubic hair shine around the base of his cock. I thought “that’s probably as shiny as the clear fluid that must be seeping from the eye of my own cock right now”. The enormous tent in the front of my pants was testimony to the fact that I was now fully aroused. The wet patch showing to the left of my zipper reminded me just how excited I was getting watching this ‘play’.
Brenda’s head was now moving up and down like a piston. She obviously had a remarkable way of being able to open up her throat and take in whatever was being put down there. With her hair being short, it didn’t even move out of place as she continued to make Ken’s day. His eyes remained shut and I could tell that he was not going to last too much longer. This was one very talented woman at work here.
Ken blew his gasket moments later. There was an “Oh fuck, I’m going to blow…” and that was basically that. He did. His arms splayed out over the arms of the chair. He seemed to sink into the base as his legs rose slightly, then his little cock ‘plopped’ out of Brenda’s mouth. It was going soft as he pushed up with his arms and straightened himself out. The whole procedure had only taken maybe three and a half minutes at most. Ken was now blowing like an athlete after a hundred yard dash, “Jesus Brenda, you do that like nobody else I know.” He lit a cigarette and reached for his drink.
Brenda smiled and got up from her knees. She took a silk handkerchief from her pocket, and wiped a spot from her chin. She brushed out imaginary wrinkles and creasing from her expensive suit and said, “I know Ken, and I do lots of other things that we haven’t tried even better.”
Completely oblivious to the significance of mecidiyeköy escort this remark Ken said, “I hope we can remain friends Brenda, even though we won’t be keeping our Tuesdays free for one another?”
“Of course we can. I might even come in for more sherry if I have a decent recipe.”
I knew that the show was over, so I remained quiet while Ken quickly replaced his boxers and his pants. He fastened his belt then walked out, in front of Brenda, through the darkened store to the front door. My cock was calming down, but a brief thought of what this woman would be like in full flight made it twitch one more time before it curled up beside my thigh.
Ken quickly returned to his office with a smile on his face like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Well, what did you think of that Dave? Was that good or was that good?”
“Ken I am suitably impressed. You definitely picked a maestro in the art of fellatio.”
“I did what?”
“You found someone who can give marvelous blow-jobs Ken.”
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Ken was grinning from ear to ear.
“Did she / you ever do anything else?”
“No, we only had an hour or so on Tuesdays and I was so taken with her blow jobs that I never got around to doing much else. I’d just give her a couple of drinks, maybe Brandy and Dry or something, then we’d get right into it… me finishing up blowing a head gasket right on time every time.”
“Good grief,” I thought. “Ken you’re a bloody moron!” I began to wonder just how frustrated Brenda really was after this idiot doing what he’d been doing for the last few months. She had probably not been really satisfied for at least a couple of years. How the hell do I meet her?
Ken’s final remarks as he let me out of the back door, “Just stick with your bro’ Dave, I’ll show you how to land ‘em.” I heard the bolt slam home and went around the side of the building to my car. My brain was zooming around at a hundred miles and hour like a hard drive that was about to fly to pieces.
The following day the idea came to me in the form of a brainwave, this is the idea I referred to earlier in the story. My inspiration was in the form of: “Why not seek out women like Brenda who have no ties, they are intelligent people and are still genuinely interested in sex without full time commitment… unless the situation changes on a mutual basis?”
My thoughts went on. “There must be women, especially older women, who are interested in men for sex without all the standard strings attached. Younger people seem to think they have this situation completely under control… but I was not after promiscuous sex where my main concern was the high likelihood of STD’s or worse.
I was thinking more along the lines of: There are women out there who do not have a husband or a regular partner and they just want to have sex with someone who will treat them as an equal and enjoy their body and their mind. There just have to be some of them out there; but how do I go about reaching them?”
With these thoughts firing about like skyrockets going off in my head I decided that I would advertise in several of the local papers. I didn’t want to go national or anything stupid like that, I was certain that there were local women who might fit the bill. If this was not the case, then I would consider widening the net. Some of the ‘Freebie’ newspapers were now getting large readerships, so I would initially use these; people seemed to enjoy reading the advertorial style of writing and presentation, so maybe the intelligent females, with some spare time of their hands, would be potential readers – and ‘customers’ for my project? Who knows?
There was never going to be any question of money, or taking on the role of a gigolo, this adventure was purely and simply to see if there were older women within a reasonable drive from where I live who were interested in what I was also interested in. I was after – uncluttered, uninhibited, no-ties sexcapades, the more often and more vigorous, the better.
There had to be some guidelines, I was not after a Quasimodo look-alike who was celebrating her 90th birthday next week, so I sat down that evening and began to consider some of the items for my ‘ideal woman specification’:-
Looks? A photograph? What Age? When? Where? How were initial communications to be arranged? Her place? My place? Motel / Hotel? Dinner? Lunch? eMail? Phone numbers?
After mind-mapping these ideas, and many more, I had the basics for the advert content. I spent the rest of the evening writing and re-writing the ad’. Finally I was satisfied with my effort. It was polite. It was non-threatening. It was disciplined in its approach; with just a hint of what could be available to share with the right person. The replies could be sent, together with photographs, to an anonymous post office box that I had set up for the project. I had sent the ad’ to four of the local ‘freebie’ newspapers and I requested that it was run for the next four weeks. The circulation for the newspapers I chose was in the several tens of thousands, so by the law of averages and marketing statistics a couple of replies were not too unrealistic an expectation… was it?
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