Sex and The Older Man

The first in an occasional series of posts featuring extracts from some of our books:

In this extract from ‘The Brinkmeyers’ by Michael Cameron, Hymie Brinkmeyer writes in his blog about discovering that you are never too old to find love and possibly sex… Even if you are fat, unfit and the wrong side of fifty…

 

Free-Fall

What have I done? How did it happen? Oh dear God, why have I done this? Can you forgive me? Will you ever forgive me?

It was like this…

Colleen and I have our diary meeting and as she is leaving my office she turns back and asks me if I want to go out tonight with her and the boys from the sales department. Seems they liked my company last time and I am now included in the Friday night bash. For a second I hesitated remembering the embarrassment caused by the King Dong cocktail, but then I think, ‘Aw, what the hell!’ and I say I would love to – I mean what is there at home? A cold supper in an empty house, that’s all.

I turn up at the bar a little late as I have to take an urgent call from a man in France who has a problem with his oil supply, but to my surprise there is no one else in the bar, only Colleen sitting alone at a table. I ask her what’s going on. She says everyone else has gone on to another bar already, but she didn’t like to leave without telling me. She is a kind girl Colleen – she does not want her old boss left standing like a klutz in a bar full of young people on his own, looking like an old man in search of his lost youth.

As we are both there we decide to have a quick cocktail. I do not know how it happened. Dear Lord, I really do not. We didn’t go looking for the others…

The evening just went so quick. We chatted about this and that and I found myself telling her all about New York and my childhood and my early career and how I met Maggie and the kids and even about some of my current problems. She is a good listener as well as being a mighty fine looking lady. And then we chatted about Ireland and her folks back there and how she and her brothers have all left home now but how wonderful the village was where she was brought up and how one day she will go back there… I don’t know – it was all so easy and relaxed and well, as I say, easy.

Anyway, next thing I know the barman is shouting ‘last orders’ and it is gone eleven! I cannot believe it, and nor can she. We laugh at how foolish we are to have stayed there all night. Amazingly we have been talking so much that we have hardly drunk anything so I am not so worried about her riding her big, powerful motorbike but I offer to escort her to where she has parked it… again!

It is parked in the same alleyway as before and it is horribly dark and smelly. Colleen shudders. ‘Oh,’ she says, ‘I didn’t realise it would get so dark when I left the bike here.’

‘It’s a good thing I’m here then,’ I say.

‘Yes,’ she says and it is the most natural thing in the world for her to take my arm and squeeze up close to me as we walk down the passageway. She has left the bike right at the end, which is kind of foolish, but I say nothing.

‘Well,’ she says when we get to the bike. ‘Time to go…’

‘I guess so,’ I say.

And we just look at each other and then she looks up at me and kind of puckers up her lips. And this time there is no King Dong involved…

Oh dear Lord. I tip my head down and draw her close and I press my lips against that sweet mouth… that sweet, sweet mouth – and it is the longest, sweetest kiss I remember having for a very long time. I know I should pull away. I know I should walk back up the alley to the High Street and that we should both pretend that this was no more than an innocent goodnight kiss, but I know that I will not. Instead I pull her closer to me and fold my arms around her and gently part her lips with my tongue and I know that she will not resist and she does not – in fact she holds me tighter and kisses me deeper in return.

And suddenly I am a young man again on a dark and lonely corner of a run-down alley in a tired and dirty part of Manhattan, having my first proper kiss with my first proper girlfriend and this kiss is like that first kiss – long-awaited, passionate and sexy and bursting over me. I am living that first kiss all over again and yet it is more than that – it is like all the kisses I have ever had, from every woman I have been with all rolled into one. It is the sun and the sea and the sky – it is living my life all over again.

So, I hold her closer and somehow my hand has slipped down and it is resting on her ass and I gently squeeze one beautiful firm young buttock through the tight leather of her biking pants and I draw her closer still. And she does not protest. She holds me tighter than ever and seems to draw more of our kiss from deep within me and as she does so, I can feel her press her breasts against me and her groin and her legs – we are becoming like one creature joined at the hip, held by our kiss – here in this dark stinking alley.

Dear God, forgive me. But I allow my other hand to creep around and under her jacket and I feel those firm breasts through her thin t-shirt and she seems to want this and she allows me to run my fingers over her hard nipples.

I do not know how long we kiss and cuddle like this but I am suddenly burningly aware of a stirring down below that I cannot control. The tip of my John Thomas is rising and pressing against the old Kelvin K’s and will not go away. I am deeply embarrassed. She must feel this. She must know my passion. So I pull away from her and for the first time for some minutes she looks up at me with lovely soft blue eyes that are smudged and moist and made more mysterious by the streetlights at the end of the alley reflecting on them, like little sparkles of passion.

‘I must go!’

I do not know who spoke, the voice is cracked and hoarse. Then I realise it was me.

‘No,’ she says. ‘Don’t.’

I must! Dear Lord you made me what I am – a man of strong emotions and certain urges but I know you want me to keep them in check and I know my duty lies with my wife and kids.

I should be ashamed. I turn away and leave her in this rat-infested, stinking place and I stumble towards the light of the main road. I only look back once and she is leaning against the wall, her dark hair thrown like a shadow over her face and she does not move but she watches me leave.

Oh God – over the last few months I have said a lot to you in my own way and I have tried to find some answers to some pretty difficult things and I have asked forgiveness for an awful lot – but this time I do not know what to say. I am torn up into little pieces between guilt and lust and possibly love – and nothing about any of this is simple or easy. What should I do? What is your plan for me? Where are you taking me and why?

You do know, don’t you? Tell me there is a plan and that this is not just some kind of free-fall – with a bumpy landing at the end of it.

 

From The Brinkmeyers by Michael Cameron, Published by the Other Publishing Company 2013, available on Amazon as a paperback or an eBook..

LINKS

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Brinkmeyers-Michael-Cameron/dp/0957319134/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376520427&sr=8-1&keywords=the+brinkmeyers

Amazon US – http://www.amazon.com/Brinkmeyers-Michael-Cameron/dp/0957319134/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1376520330&sr=1-2&keywords=the+brinkmeyers

Advertisements