Let tomorrow be tomorrow

This is a new venue for me. I was torn between 'Mature' and 'Erotic Coupling' but, it ended up in 'Mature' between two consenting adults. One over the age of 18 and one who is WAY over the age of 18.

It takes a while, and like all of my stories, when the sex does happen... well, if you've read my stories you know.

"mmm... my girlfriends were right," my young lover purred softly as she nuzzled her warm bare body against mine. Her small soft breast against my chest and the soft tuft of brown pubic hair brushed against my hip.

"Right about what?" as I lightly kissed the top of her head through her tousled brown hair.

"That older men are the best lovers," toying with my sparse gray chest hair.

That brought a chuckle from me.

"Somehow, I think that their definition of 'older men' didn't go all the way to 'ancient'."

A giggle.

My young lover snakes her hand down between us and wraps her soft hand around my shriveled cock.

"You're not ancient... And this part down here is DEFINITELY not ancient. And these guys are still doing their job."

I gasp as her hand moves down, cups my loose balls, gently massages, and rolls each drained orb in her soft warm hand.

"And this tongue," she moves up and plants a soft kiss on my lips before light probing her tongue through my lips seeking my own tongue.

"mmmm.... I can still taste myself on you... so sexy. This tongue could teach a whole generation of guys how to pleasure a woman," looking up with a playful grin, "And maybe even a few women."

My young lover went back to resting her head on my chest. A few minutes later her breathing deepened. She had fallen into a relaxing and satisfying sleep.

Laying there listening to the sweet sounds of my young lover sleeping. Listening to the howling of the January wind. The shaking of the house at a sudden strong gust. The sound of the blowing snow against the window. Savoring the feel of a young warm, soft, and bare body against my own. It was something that I had pretty much chalked up as never experiencing again. My mind drifted.

...........................................................

I love small towns. I'm not talking about small... small towns. Towns with just a few thousand people, a couple of grocery stores and gas stations, and, the most important part... three or four cozy taverns. Each with its own unique type of crowd. Towns where there was a sense of community.

One of the nice things about growing up in a small town is that you went through school with the same bunch of kids from elementary school all the way through high school.

Everybody going through the awkwardness and growing pains of going through puberty together. Dating. Discovering the opposite sex... Oh... those lonely and quiet country roads at the end of a date when, if you were lucky, you REALLY got to discover and play. High school dances and sports.

It brought a closeness that, from what I heard from some of my college friends who attended large high schools, was lacking in theirs. Their graduating class was so large they couldn't name half of their classmates.

Hi, I'm Bill. Not the same Bill as in my previous stories. A different... older and hopefully wiser Bill. So, here I was on my patio looking out over my backyard with a cold beer, and reminiscing about the 'good ole' days.

Days when I wasn't here by myself. Days when my wife, of 35 years, would be sitting across from me with her favorite glass of white wine. Days before we got the diagnosis. Days before we found out that it was spreading quickly and there was no stopping it.

I was pretty set financially, having made some lucky stock investments through my financial advisor. My wife's life insurance payout, and social security. Keeping moderately busy with my engineering consulting business, kept my mind occupied and challenging at times. Some months I had maybe 60 to 70 hours of work and some months there was nothing, which was fine by me.

This all gave me time for my favorite hobby... writing erotic stories like this one. And then there was online porn. I may be old, but I'm not dead and my balls needed to be drained occasionally. While the volume had gone down, the intensity was still there and everything worked. I read someplace on the internet that regular draining keeps the prostate healthy and things flushed out. I don't know if it was true, but seemed reasonable. Besides, who was I to argue with the experts? And it was on the Internet, so it must be true.

The house had been paid off years ago. Still, my two sons had tried to talk me into selling and moving into a smaller place a number of times.

They kept saying, "Dad why do you need a two-story four-bedroom house to keep clean with an acre of grass to mow and a 100-foot-long driveway to clear snow from in the winter?"

The conversation went like this.

"A lot of reasons. The main one is that there's plenty of room when we all get together, even though we are missing one. You and my three granddaughters will have comfortable beds to sleep on. The other reason is that I like it here. I'm not that far away from either of you. I like the yard it gives me something to do. Then there's my garden... I know that you both love the veggies and salsa when things ripen. And the nice-size yard gives the girls a nice open place to play."

"But Dad, don't you get lonely?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it's just too quiet. That's when I hit my favorite bar and the friends there. It's like the bar from the TV show, 'Cheers'... 'Where everyone knows your name'. It's fun. It's comfortable. I can't see myself finding a closer group of friends in a larger city and I'm definitely NOT moving into a condo. I'd go crazy with the boredom.

"I get invited over to the neighbors for some burgers every once in a while. And when I put a pork butt roast on the smoker we just sit around later and have pulled Bar-B-Q pork and other stuff. I don't even have to invite them over. As soon as they smell the hickory smoke in the morning they know it's going to be a 'pulled pork dinner'. They bring the beer. It's fun and I enjoy it.

"I'm healthy. I walk every day and haven't been at this weight since before I was married, considering that when I was traveling, away from here for 4 days a week for seven years, and eating from fast food places I was eighty pounds heavier than I am now. Wearing 38-inch waist slacks. Now, I can almost wear a 32-inch waist."

"You have lost weight. You look good. But I don't think that you need to lose anymore. Eat some pizzas. Have a McDonalds."

Later, after they had left, another reason why I liked living here brought a contented smile. The patio is hidden enough from the neighbors that if I wanted to have some sun on places that normally don't see any sun I could do that. Or in my garden that was hidden by a trellis of grape vines... some 'Semi-nude Gardening'. Meaning just a long T-shirt. Bending over to pull a weed. The wind and sun on my exposed ball sack were invigorating. And then in the middle of summer, after it's dark, a walk around the yard nude. I guess that I was a 'closet nudist'. Even now, I spend most of my day inside just wearing a long T-shirt that came to just below my butt.

Those reasons I obviously kept to myself.

Living alone, when I do get out, I enjoy interacting and talking to people. Mostly the folks at my favorite bar. It wasn't until after our sons went off to college that my wife and I started to visit the bars downtown. Up until then, the only people that we interacted with were our neighbors. It was casual and stayed at the bars. For some reason, we never got together at anyone's house. Don't know why, it just never happened.

But, I also like to interact with those that worked in the grocery stores during my weekly grocery shopping. It was mainly the girls that were scanning my groceries. No, I'm not a dirty old man. I wouldn't call it flirting, I mean what young, barely out-of-high school girl would want to flirt with a silver-hair guy like me? Still, it was innocent fun, and light-hearted.

Besides, it was difficult getting familiar with any of the grocery workers, mainly because most were part-time high school kids. Some of the checkout gals actually had a personality beyond asking the same monotonous monotone question... 'Paper or Plastic?' followed by 'Have a nice day,' as they robotically started the whole routine over with the next person in line.

Like I said, 'Occasionally one DID have a personality'. I remember one.

She was a cute high school girl with long blonde hair, sparkling hazel-green eyes, and a bright smile with bright white teeth. Beneath the smock that she wore, I could make out a nice pair of apple-size breasts. Watching her interact with the lady in front of me, with her personality on display brought a smile each time I was there. She was going to break a lot of hearts as she went through life. From her name tag, I saw that her name was "Erin" and made sure to thank her by name, as she handed me the receipt. That always brought a warm smile.

I remember one time as she started to scan my stuff, she casually asked, "So, did you find everything you were looking for?"

I looked at her, grinned, and said, "Why? You guys hiding stuff?"

It took a second for her to catch what I had just said. When she looked up and saw my grin she just said, "That was a new one. That's pretty good," then grinning, "Well sometimes they move stuff around just to make it more like a treasure hunt."

Another time the store had the particular bottles of large bottles of wine that I liked on sale at 20% off. So, I had eight bottles in the cart. She remembered me from the previous week, grinned, and simply asked, "Thirsty?".

The response I gave her was one that I had heard on the radio a number of years ago. I just grinned back.

"No. Actually, I'm just trying to work up the nerve to go to confession."

The person behind me heard my answer and started to laugh along with Erin.

"That's pretty good. You made my day last week and then just now. Thanks for the humor and breaking up my boring day. Most folks just pass through here and never give us gals a second thought. Never even acknowledge our name."

"Well, I'm glad. Sometimes, with the world going to hell in a hand-basket you just have to laugh. And when I can get someone else to laugh it makes my day. So, Thank you."

A couple of weeks later, she was gone. Must have moved on, or whatever.

There was another store in town where if you bought six bottles of wine, you got a 10% discount. I made it a habit of frequenting that store each week also, just to break up my wine purchases. After a couple of weeks, the girl behind the counter got used to what I would be buying and had an empty box for my purchases ready when I checked out.

The first time that she brought the box around from the counter to hand it to me, my hands accidentally grazed hers.

"Sorry," I softly said.

She just smiled, and with a chipper in her voice just said, "You're fine."

Her name tag said that her name was Alex. And like before, I always used her name when I was finished with my purchase. And there was always a warm smile.

Over the few weeks, whenever she would be behind the counter, it would be the same exchange. Hands lightly touching. I have to confess that I may have lingered a few times. She never wavered in her response, the friendly smile, the liveliness in her voice, or that she was uncomfortable with the light touches. In all reality, she could have just placed the box on the counter and let me pick it up. She never did. She always handed it off to me.

She was maybe in her early twenties. Petite. She wasn't going to win any Beauty Contests. She just had one of those 'Plain Jane' faces. But, those eyes. They were a light brown almost the color of a caramel. Her friendly personality was infectious, and in all reality, I looked forward to doing my weekly shopping there. Both for the conversation and for the occasional 'Brushing of Hands', which were lingering longer with each visit. I quit apologizing for the contact. Instead, each time there was a lingering warm smile.

She always wore a loose pullover top that hid her small breasts as her little mounds were barely visible against the material. Occasionally I walked behind her and became fixated on her small butt cheeks. She was always friendly.

Did I fantasize about her? Wonder what was beneath those clothes? Because small breasts are my favorite... What her little breasts looked like? Her nipples? Maybe occasionally. I mean when you have a lot of time on your hands, your mind and imagination kind of take over. Besides, she was a sweet young girl. No need to be a dirty old man and get all pervy. That's the last thing that I wanted to project to her when was in doing my shopping.

Like I said before, her name tag said, "Alex". I once kidded her and called her Alexandria. She just gave me a look and said, "I prefer Alex."

"Sorry. So Alex, now that we're on a first-name basis, my name is Bill."

There was a cute grin as Alex extended her hand. Gently holding her soft dainty hand in mine, and not just brushing my fingers over hers gave me a warm sensation. A sensation that I hadn't felt in a long time.

"Nice to meet you... Bill."

I tried not to be pervy, but I didn't want to let go, and it seemed like neither did Alex. We were interrupted by a customer coming around the corner. Alex blushed it was cute, then turned and disappeared.

Over time, I found out that she lived in the next town over and each night had a 15-minute drive, after closing up. Her dad lived about 15 minutes from where she lived and about 30 minutes from here. We talked one time about how it seemed like there were always new faces working in the store and that they didn't seem to stay very long. Alex said that it seemed like she was always training someone new. She liked working there, was 'full-time', and had been there for about three years. She wasn't the store manager or anything, but she kept the place organized and would keep the shelves stocked and do the ordering when needed.

Whenever I saw her car in the parking lot, I would seek her out in the store and just visit for a few minutes. Talk about things other than the boring weather. I did get her to talk a bit about her nephews and some of her family get-togethers. I could tell that she really loved her family.

It was the time of Covid, and Alex had admitted that she got the jab. She reasoned that with all of her interaction with people coming in and out of the store, it would help prevent her from getting really sick. Unfortunately, she had a bad reaction and was sick for a week. She vowed that she would not get any of the boosters, and wore a mask all during her eight-hour shift, even when the store was empty, or she was off in one of the aisle by herself.

One time, as she was scanning my wine purchases, I asked what kind of wine she liked. Alex just shrugged her shoulders and said that she wasn't much of a drinker. She had tried whisky a couple of times and didn't like it.

"You don't seem like the whisky type of girl."

That brought a playful grin, as she thought about how she was going to answer.

"No? So, what kind of girl do you think I am?"

I could see the 'double question' there. Was she flirting with me? It would be a first.

Thinking about my response, to that 'double question' and taking the safe route.

"You seem like a Riesling type of girl. A light body with mildly sweet aromas of citrus and white flowers."

"A light body?" she grinned playfully.

Alex let those three words hang in the air, as she brought the box of my purchases around the counter and placed it in my hands. This time our hands lingered on each other's for more than a few moments and we each exchanged gentle smiles.

Driving home, my brain replayed those last few minutes. Alex was openly flirting with me. Fortunately, we were the only ones in the area. What was going through her head? I mean I was years past being even as old as her father probably was. Alex was a sweet girl. Maybe she was as lonely as I was but for a different reason. Maybe I was her source of casual weekly friendship like she was mine. If that was the case, I could live with that. I mean, it's not like I was going to ask her out for dinner at some romantic restaurant. That would be awkward. And what could a young twenty-something girl and sixty-something guy have in common to talk about? The weather?

In the end, I just decided to go with the flow. Things just seemed fine the way they were going. No need to rock the boat.

Daylight savings time ended and it got darker earlier. Being the fall, it meant that deer were out and about and would just dart across the road before you even had a chance to do anything. Alex and I were talking about that and she relayed a few 'close calls' on more than a few occasions and how she knew that she had to slow down in the fall on her way home when the deer were in their rutting.

Winter was coming. Out of a bit of concern, I asked if Alex had a good and reliable car. She said that she did. Just the same, I offered that if she ever needed something, like a battery jump, or anything to feel free to call. We traded cell phone numbers. I never expected anything to come out of that exchange but felt better that I could offer some quick assistance if she needed something as the closest relative was over 30 minutes away.

January and a major winter storm was expected to hit toward the end of the week. So, like everyone else, I hit the grocery store. The milk section was empty as was the egg section. I wasn't there for milk and eggs, already had some. I was there for the essentials: frozen pizzas, beer, wine, and a bottle of my favorite bourbon. If I was going to get snowed in I was going to be prepared.

It snowed most of the day and then the wind picked up around 5:00. By 7:00 it was a full-blown blizzard. Luckily the power stayed on. It flickered a couple of times, but that was it.

I was on my first glass of bourbon which was going down smoothly and sitting in front of the TV with a strong wood-burning fire going. Then I heard it... my phone ringing. The caller ID only said 'A. Rawlings'. I had no idea who A. Rawlings was but I answered anyway instead of just hitting 'Block Call' or just letting take a message.

"Hello."

"Bill... Alex."

"Alex. Are you OK?"

"I tried to get home but only got a mile or so out of town before I couldn't see anything. The roads haven't been plowed and some are drifted over. I could try and sleep in my car, or go back into the store and sleep on the couch in the lady's room, but then I'd have to deal with the Security Alarm and Security people. I was just wondering...."

Never letting her finish her sentence.

"Alex, where are you?"

"I'm in the store's parking lot. The streets are deserted. I haven't seen a snowplow in the last fifteen or twenty minutes."

"Stay there. I'm on my way. You're coming back here for the night. I'll explain everything when I get you here."

"Be careful. It's nasty out here."

The SUV Honda Pilot handled the snow-covered roads like it was nothing. I found Alex's car sitting in the parking lot with the engine running. Pulling up next to her car and rolling the window down a bit, I could see a worried look.

"Hey there stranger."

She did give me a warm, but stressed smile.

"Come on. Follow me. If we go slow it'll be fine. I've got some warm cream of chicken soup for you, if you're hungry."

"mmmm... sounds wonderful."

Being a three-car organized garage, there was plenty of room for Alex's car in the extra bay. Entering the open area of the living area, breakfast table, and kitchen I heard, "Wow. You live here by yourself?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you later. Let's get you comfortable and settled. Are you still hungry? I'm a 'soup kind of guy' in the winter. I'll make a couple of large batches and freeze them into manageable portions. That way I don't have to do a lot of nightly dinner meals. I've got a Cream of chicken or white bean and ham soup... You're choice. I've already eaten so it's no big deal. Just dish it out and microwave it. Or, I can pop a frozen pizza in the oven if you prefer that."