Truisms abound. They are meant to be insightful but are often plain common sense, more obvious than astute.

Such a truism came to mind with an unexpected experience I had a few years ago. When I think back to what transpired this truism replays itself in my mind: Life is full of surprises.

About fifteen years ago my then dating partner introduced me to a small circle of friends. Of the four new acquaintances, one was named Bonnie. I found her interesting in an intellectual way, and even though she looked very attractive and fit for someone in their mid-sixties, I did not see her in a sexual way. She certainly was appealing enough to elicit a sexual response, but there was no chemistry. We did, however, bond on a rational level.

That first meeting was brief. It lasted around thirty minutes before having to leave for a different commitment. During the car ride over to the new destination I thought about the people I just met. Bonnie, by far, was the most interesting. I could see having a deep conversation with her. I found that stimulating.

Bonnie was not tall, more medium height, her face angular with chiseled cheekbones and jawline. Those characteristics conveyed the illusion of being statuesque. I said she looked in shape but not in a toned or muscular way. Even with her clothes on one could see she had little body fat. I am sure that was the result of years adhering to a vegan diet.

The one trait that was captivating was her hair. It was thick, shoulder-length, and a luminous silver color highlighted by a few streaks of black. It framed and emphasized her facial features well.

A couple of weeks later we met for the second time. My partner wanted to ask for a favor, so we drove to Bonnie’s house. My companion lived in the next state over from mine. Our normal routine was for me to visit on weekends; however, on this particular weekend my partner’s son, who was in the military, was being deployed overseas. My partner wanted to see her son off. By doing so, she would not be available to see me until late Saturday night. I suggested I could come over once she got home, or we could postpone it until next weekend. My partner had a better idea. She asked if I would mind spending some time with Bonnie if she agreed. She did approve.

It was late Friday evening when I arrived at her house. We decided to sit and talk rather than attempt to go anywhere. It was an opportunity to get to know one another better. It was worth the effort. Bonnie and I clicked. We discussed many topics of interest and soon discovered how fast the time had slipped by. I drove back to my partner’s house feeling good about the encounter.

Saturday night’s activity was planned in advance. Bonnie had tickets to a play at the local community playhouse. It was The Vagina Monologues.

The play was both serious and funny, and I enjoyed it. Afterwards, I got to meet a couple of Bonnie’s friends. We hung around and chatted for a while before I escorted Bonnie home. Then I drove to my partner’s house and waited for her to return from her trip. When she did arrive, I told her about the evening.

I was still of the mind where Bonnie interested me, but not in a sexual way. I could see us becoming friends but nothing more.

Before the third meeting with Bonnie my relationship changed with my partner – it ended. I understood her reasons but felt heartbroken. Many of the new friends I came to know felt sorry for me. They blamed my ex-partner for the way she broke up with me. My response to them was that I was okay, and my ex-partner should not be judged too harshly. I failed to change their minds.

The breakup happened during the winter months. By the time summer rolled around I was feeling better. I was looking forward to attending a weekend seminar by an organization that emphasizes love and intimacy. The talks and exercises are not about having sex. Instead, the love and intimacy is directed at yourself.

Once I committed to attending the seminar, a list of attendees arrived by email. I scanned it to see if there would be anyone there that I knew. And there it was, Bonnie.

I am usually nervous before going to one of these seminars, but I felt a little calmer knowing there was somebody there I could talk to.

The organization was an offshoot of a hippie-style philosophy and liberality. It was all love, peace, harmony, and intimacy. Nudity was allowed but not mandatory. The one overriding principle is that everyone has a choice. You have the power to say no. You can choose not to participate in any activity if you feel uncomfortable. This is especially true about the one choice you are given at the end of the Friday seminar. You are asked if you wish to remove some or all of your clothes. From that point forward the rest of the seminar would remain clothing optional. The choice was yours whether to comply.

Most attendees remove their clothes, while a good number remain partially clothed. Some, mostly women, will wrap themselves with a large towel. Others have purchased a sarong for the same purpose. They remain covered while being naked underneath.

At some point I saw Bonnie. She was one of the women who wore a sarong. I found myself wondering what she looked like naked. Again, it was not from the point of sexual interest but simple curiosity. I quickly put the thought out of my mind.

There were approximately three hundred people joining the seminar. The large number made it difficult to strike up a conversation. There was too much distraction with all the arrivals greeting one another.

On Saturday things settled down. This gave me the opportunity to approach Bonnie. We managed to have a brief talk mostly exchanging pleasantries, but we kept being interrupted by other acquaintances, so we agreed to talk more later.

I finally got some alone time with Bonnie late Saturday afternoon. It came about when the moderator announced the next exercise. We were asked to split up in pairs, one male and one female, and think up our own exercise centered on building intimacy. We were also instructed that the exercise would last for twenty minutes. I had no idea who to choose as a partner. The problem was solved when Bonnie approached me and asked if I wanted to work with her. I quickly answered in the affirmative.

Doing an exercise is much easier than trying to invent one. Luckily Bonnie, who attended these seminars more than once, had the solution. She suggested that we construct a small tent using some of the materials available in the room. Inside would be two chairs placed side-by-side for us to sit. It sounded like a good idea, so we started to scrounge for what we needed.

The tent construction began. Stacks of chairs were used as perimeter posts. We draped large towels and sheets over the improvised posts to build the outside walls and ceiling. When completed we had a small, secluded room we could use for the exercise. It was private; no one could see in, and we could not see out. But Bonnie was not finished. There was one more item she wanted to add.

Bonnie stepped outside the tent for a few seconds and then re-entered holding some material. The fabric was thin, light, and semi-transparent. She said we could drape it over our heads to create a more intimate atmosphere. The suggestion was met with my approval.

Bonnie was right about the mood inside the tent. With our chairs positioned side-by-side our arms were in constant contact. The warmth from our bodies fueled a deeper connection. Also, the material hanging over us made us feel like we were the only two people in the universe – we existed only for each other.

The idea of what to do next reached our minds simultaneously. Being touched is something missing from many people’s lives. One successful way to create intimacy was through touch, not in a sexual way, but tenderly. That is where we began, with a soft, soothing touch.

Bonnie and I gave each other consent to engage in our tactile exchange. We also discussed boundaries for something as intimate as touching or massaging areas of the body. What was allowed and what was off-limits was established. We both granted unlimited boundaries. We were now ready to begin our personal exercise.

We started to touch one another. Light touching has a way of reaching the core of an individual. It certainly did for us. I could feel us growing closer together.

The glide of my fingertips moved up and down Bonnie’s arms before using the same technique on her legs. Bonnie’s breathing deepened, and then there was the notable appearance of gooseflesh on her arms. She reciprocated in a similar fashion. I felt little electric shocks course through my body. I chose to do this exercise without any clothes or covering, so Bonnie had more access to bodily areas. She took advantage of my exposure by floating her hands across my torso and abdomen. The physical stimulation was beginning to have an effect. I fought to keep it under control.

Bonnie wore her sarong to the exercise. I was tempted to ask if she would remove it, but I was afraid I might spoil the mood. Instead, I concentrated on tenderly stroking her face. This action is more intimate and sensuous. It also facilitates a deeper connection with your partner without being sexual.

Bonnie’s eyes were closed as my fingers outlined her facial features. Her forehead, brow, eyelids, nose, cheeks, lips and jaw received equal attention. Every so often her lips would part, and a pleasurable sigh would be emitted.

We were about five minutes into the exercise when Bonnie, eyes still closed, made a passionate request. “Kiss me,” she said in a soft alluring voice.

The invite took me by surprise. Was the line between intimacy and sex about to be crossed? At this point it did not matter. I wanted to kiss Bonnie. There was no hesitation. I leaned over and pressed my lips against hers. They were soft and warm, inviting me for more.

The kissing was another example of Bonnie’s sensuality. It was ironic. As passionate as the embrace and kissing were, I had no sense of sexual intent. Maybe now was the time to make a request of my own.

We parted for a moment, my lips a mere couple of inches from hers. Bonnie opened her eyes. I stared deeply into them and asked, “May I touch your breast?”

Bonnie did not speak. Instead, she lowered the left side of her sarong exposing her breast. It was beautiful. Alabaster white in appearance and punctuated by a rosy-pink areola with a slightly redder nipple. It was bigger than imagined. The size was difficult to tell because of the style of clothes she wore. While gravity had taken a toll after sixty-plus years, the breast was still something to behold.

I reacted to Bonnie’s silent invitation by cupping the bottom of her left bosom with my right hand. I held it gently. I did not squeeze as one might do in the throes of passion. I applied the same soft massage technique I had used on her body and face. My hand settled over her nipple, and it immediately became erect, poking itself into the palm of my hand. I held that position as we began to kiss some more.

Until now, the only sound Bonnie made was the occasional sigh. The kissing and the attention to her breast made those sighs more frequent and guttural.

I began to move my hand ever so slightly over her nipple creating enough friction to elicit a verbal response. What I heard was Bonnie’s trademark reaction when aroused, “Yesss.”

The sound was a cross between a low moan and a whisper. The sibilant s was like the warning hiss of a snake. The reaction and sound were quite stimulating. I found myself getting hard.

Every time Bonnie voiced a “yesss”, her kissing became more intense. She began to kiss past my lips and up the side of my face. She found my ear lobe and gave it a playful bite before whispering softly into my ear. Her low breathy tone struck at the center of my being, and then she asked, “Will you cum for me?”

I was astonished by the request. It came unexpectedly. I never imagined such words coming from this sophisticated lady; however, there was something extraordinary about the way she said it which convinced me to honor the request. The words did not come from a place of lust. They were neither demanding, nor matter of fact. Somehow it seemed spiritual to me; the goal after all was intimacy, not sex. My response to Bonnie was short and sweet, “Take it.”

“Yesss, I would like to see the seed of your manhood. Yesss, I want it.  Yesss, I will take it.”

Bonnie rested her head on my shoulder and placed her hand on my upper thigh. She began to place light butterfly kisses on the side of my neck while her fingers made a slow crawl towards my groin. I repositioned myself in the chair in anticipation. I moved my hips slightly toward the edge of the seat and parted my legs giving Bonnie easier access to her intended target.

I closed my eyes and relaxed my body to enhance the experience. Bonnie’s hand continued its gradual approach until it reached its destination. I felt the coolness of her hand cup my testicles. She seemed to be weighing their mass. I opened my eyes to observe.

Bonnie’s hand closed around my scrotum. She did not squeeze, only held it as if assessing the dimensions. “Oh my, yesss. What a nice size. Your balls must hold a lot of cum. Yesss, nice, hot, white cum, and you promised to show it to me. “Yesss, let me see it.”

I was still dumbfounded by what was happening. All I could do was repeat myself, “Take it.”

I had a half-erection when Bonnie’s hand moved away from my balls and took hold of my penis. I opened my eyes and caught sight of her delicately long porcelain fingers encompassing the shaft of my manhood. I found the contrast in skin tone visually and physically stimulating, causing an almost immediate engorgement of my member. It soon reached its full vigor. The all too familiar sibilant sound followed.

“Yesss,” Bonnie hissed, “Ssso thick, ssso long.”

Bonnie’s hand began to move. She stroked the full length of my erection from its base all the way to the glans. The pace was deliberate and slow. Her grip was not tight, but it provoked excruciating pleasure.

My excitement was on full display. Pre-cum began to emerge from the head of my penis. Bonnie took advantage of the seeping liquid. Each time her hand rose to the top of my shaft she would glide her thumb over the glans collecting the pre-cum. It functioned as a lubricant making the penile manipulations slick and more pleasurable.

I never thought the slow masturbatory stroke would bring about an orgasm, but I was wrong. I could feel the buildup deep within me. My muscles would tense, then relax. My toes would curl each time Bonnie rubbed the nerve endings of my glans, and I could sense my scrotum and testicles tightening, certain signs that Bonnie’s gift would arrive soon. She knew it, too.

“Yesss, you are almost ready,” she whispered. “I want it. I want it. Will you give it to me? I need to see it. Yesss, I can feel the surge,” Bonnie said excitedly.

Bonnie aimed the head of my penis at an angle towards my upper body, and just in time. The first stream of semen exploded from my penis. It left a white, milky trail from the center of my chest to my navel. Bonnie’s eyes were wide open and her mouth agape. “Yesss, yesss, yesss…”

More cum soon followed, covering parts of my stomach and pubic area. Bonnie could not stop hissing “yesss” until I was fully depleted. She kept pumping my manhood to make sure no more cum was left.

The orgasm and ejaculations died down. My eyes were still closed as I savored the feeling of immense pleasure until my reverie was broken by an unusual sensation. Something warm and moist was moving across my torso. I opened my eyes and witnessed something totally unexpected. Bonnie’s head was hovering close to my chest, with tongue out, licking the cum off my body.

She was committed to cleansing me thoroughly. I watched her move from spot to spot until all vestiges of my seed were consumed. When finished, Bonnie turned her attention to the hand that produced my orgasm as it was partly covered with ejaculate. I watched her lick and suck the white liquid into her mouth and swallow. She did it so delicately and lovingly. She seemed to delight in the partaking of my jism. Her facial expression was one of pleasurable appreciation to be allowed the opportunity to feast on my semen.

As Bonnie consumed the last remnants of my seed, she turned her head towards me asking me to kiss her. I did not delay. I passionately pressed my lips to hers. Bonnie’s mouth was partly open, so I darted my tongue inside. Her tongue found mine and I felt Bonnie’s body shiver. I could taste the faint flavor of my semen lingering on the surface of her tongue. I sucked it until the taste disappeared.

Our passion was interrupted by a warning from the moderator, “The exercise will end in five minutes.”

Bonnie and I concluded our embrace. Bonnie was the first to speak. “You are a beautiful human being which is why I wanted to capture the essence of your manly humanity, the seed of your existence. That seed is forever planted in my heart, my mind, and my soul. You are now and forever a part of me.”

Bonnie took a few steps back after her announcement. She unwrapped her sarong and let it fall to the floor. For the first time I saw her nakedness and it was amazing. It dawned on me that Bonnie had not gone fully unclothed during the seminar, so I took her action as a treasured gift to me. I did not say a word. I knelt before her and respectfully kissed her vagina. Bonnie was overcome with emotion.

When the exercise ended, we were greeted by the moderator as we emerged from the makeshift tent. “Did you meet the goal of finding intimacy?” he asked.

My answer was quick and concise. “Yesss.”