There are only two kinds of regrets; regrets for things you’ve done, of course, but also for things you could have done but didn’t, for whatever reason.

You might regret any number of things you’ve done; foolish, painful, or hurtful things, or maybe things that have cost you a lot of money or much of your dignity or both. Possibly impulsive things you simply didn’t think through ahead of time, or that ended other than as you might have imagined, or even just mental coin-flip decisions that came up tails when heads might have brought the better outcome.

So, yes, the Type One Regret is about the things you’ve done - that late-night chimichanga from a disreputable-looking food truck; the bet that you could down an entire pitcher of beer in under thirty seconds while never anticipating the possibility of a disastrous rebound; the night of wild, drunken, animal sex with a woman you knew was married to a very large, jealous, and short-tempered man; perhaps buying that shiny new Yugo… Those kinds of things. Not that I’ve ever done any of those, you understand; those are merely hypotheticals.

Still, what’s done is done, and while you might look back on it and shake your head and wonder, or maybe laugh at your mistakes, they ordinarily don’t live on to haunt you and cause you grief. They’re entirely behind you.

The Type Two Regret, the other variety, the kind that lingers and creates doubts and makes you continually wonder what might have been, is the regret you feel for the things you didn’t do. I don’t have too many of those because I’d always been eager to collect the other type instead; of the former variety, I have many, which leaves a relative few for the latter category. Nonetheless, there are some.

I regret not thru-hiking the length of the Pacific Crest, Continental Divide, and Appalachian Trails when I was still young and fit and had the freedom to do so; I regret not somehow scraping together the $7,500 needed to buy a new Shelby Cobra 427 back in the mid-sixties when Carroll Shelby was building them, a pristine model of which recently sold for almost six million dollars at auction. I regret turning down what might have been my dream job to take one that paid more, but which had ultimately turned out to be entirely despicable.

Of all the things I regret not doing, however, perhaps I regret not doing Bobbie Jo Kaminski the most.

Bobbie Jo – or BJ, as she was called, not entirely because those are her initials – was a half-Polish, half-Swedish milkmaid of a girl from my high school and college days. Statuesque – by which I mean tall, curvy, solidly built and possessed of an ample, plush ass and a pair of enormous hooters, featuring prominent and perpetually eagerly erect nipples - BJ was the subject of many a masturbatory fantasy and the proximate cause of many a wet dream among the teenaged male set of my youth.

Also, according to abundant rumors and a few willingly-posed-for Polaroids, for many of my peers in our adolescent years, she was much more than mere fantasy or masturbation fodder. That body, combined with her big blue eyes, long blond hair, soft full lips, teasing laugh, and a voice likely to stiffen any dick within earshot seemed to buy her access to virtually any young, horny male – which was all of us, so she could afford to be choosy.

Not that she was, particularly, but she could afford to be. Legend had it that she provided many a young man with his first non-solo sexual experience of one sort or another. Unfortunately for me, and despite her benevolent and magnanimous promiscuity, I was never the beneficiary of her sexual largesse because she and I had a love/hate relationship: I loved her, but she hated me.

To this day I’m not entirely sure why, but every time I tried to get close to her, to express my love, adoration, and, of course, eager, cock-throbbing lust, it came out wrong. It came out as teasing or critical, crude or sarcastic, other times probably desperate, occasionally as clumsy and incoherent when the blood had drained from my brain to my other equally infatuated organ. She seemed to think I was cruel and picking on her, an utter moron, or both, and I believe it got to where she could barely stand the sight of me – other than the one time when she saw me stark naked. But more on that later.

It remained that way through high school and a year and a half of college, and then we went our separate ways, my love and my lust both unrequited and not tapping Bobbie Jo a seemingly permanent addition to my list of life’s serious regrets

In any event, you could have knocked me over with a feather when, some decades later, I was waiting in line at the pharmacy and heard my name called out, and when I turned, it was her! BJ… I recognized her immediately – the full, lush figure, softer and more full and voluptuous than ever and her unambiguous heat and sexuality much the same - but also by her blue eyes and full, sensuous lips… and that sultry voice, of course! Her hair had gone from golden-blond to silver-blond (while my own, fortunately still present, had gone mostly white) but she still wore hers long, pulled back in a ponytail.

“Bobbie Jo, is that you? My god, you look magnificent!”

“Don’t start by lying to me, Harold!”

“No, you do! Seriously, Bobbie Jo, you look great. Wonderful.” Already I was doing better than I ever had as a youth.

She smiled. “Well, okay then, and thank you. You look good too – and you can still call me BJ, and for the same reasons…”

I laughed. “Ah! Good to know; please call me Hal. So, how have you been?”

“Oh, good, I guess. Other than my cholesterol, which is why I’m here at the pharmacy. You?”

“I’m, uh, blood pressure. You know. I’m here for my blood pressure medicine.” I wasn’t, my blood pressure is fine; I was there for my Viagra prescription. I don’t need it often because opportunities to use it are few and far between, but when the opportunity does arise I’d like to be certain that I do as well. I wasn’t about to tell her that, however.

She laughed. “I wasn’t prying into your medical history, Hal. I meant how have you been, not why are you here.”

Oh. Ha, well, fine I suppose – other than the BP thing, of course.”

“Of course. Hal, I think it’s your turn.”

“I beg your pardon?” Coming from BJ, that phrase had made both my heart and my libido surge!

She merely smiled knowingly and nodded toward the pharmacy counter.

Sure enough, the window was vacant and I was next in line. Feeling foolish, I stepped forward, hopeful as always that the pharmacist would not enter into a long, loud discussion about ED medications; this time, with BJ standing right there, I had an added incentive to keep my embarrassing “old man/limp penis” issues under wraps.

She – the pharmacist, a beautiful young woman, of course – kept it discreet, quietly asking if I had any questions about the medication or its uses or possible side effects. Blushing, I assured her that I didn’t, paid, and slipped the small bottle quietly into my jacket pocket, refusing a bag.

BJ asked me to wait while she picked up her cholesterol meds, and then we walked outside and stood in front of the store chatting for a spell, catching up. She’d been married twice and divorced an equal number of times, both times for infidelity – hers the first time, his the second – and had recently returned to town, now happily single.

I’d lost my first wife to cancer when in our fifties and in my fog of grief had married foolishly on the rebound just a little over a year later, soon realized my mistake and promptly corrected it, and was thus also currently single; mostly happily, although a fuller, more active and frequent sex life would have been welcome.

I’ll admit that it was a thought that was ever-present in my mind as I chatted with BJ. She still had “it”, perhaps more than ever; I defy any straight male of any age to spend more than a few minutes in her presence without thoughts of sex entering the equation, so I didn’t chastise myself for my lewd thoughts.

Instead, I asked her out to dinner. She accepted, and, although she looked spectacular, insisted on going home to change. I was okay in my slacks, sport shirt, and jacket, more than adequately dressed for the place I had in mind, so she invited me to follow her home so that we could then ride to the restaurant together. I did so, following her to a small, Craftsman-style bungalow and waiting in her living room while she “freshened up”.

She’d left me with a cold beer and a partially-open bedroom door down the hall through which we could converse, and through which I would catch an occasional glimpse of BJ in various stages of undress. I had no illusions that the angle was an accident or that she was unaware of my voyeurism; I was a little embarrassed that I seemed unable to not look but was unsurprised that I had a burgeoning erection even absent any chemical assist. BJ had always had that effect on me, even at a distance.

When she returned she was in a soft, trim, dusty-blue dress that ended at her knees. It was low-cut and displayed her considerable décolletage to best advantage, and she was conspicuously and magnificently braless, her big nipples right there saying ‘howdy’. I don’t know if she thought she read appreciation or skepticism on my face, but she seemed to feel compelled to explain – and, in BJ fashion, she was customarily blunt.

“Yes, before you ask, that’s all me, home-grown and certified, but I did have a bit of a professional boost done a few years ago - we are sixty-nine years old, after all! You always were one to drool over my tits; what do you think?”

“I, um, well… I think I should probably wear a bib! You are as gorgeous and sexy as you ever were, BJ, and whoever did your work is an artist.”

“Why, thank you!” She smiled, twirled, and performed a low curtsy, during which I caught a glimpse of stocking top and garter. “You were never this much of a gentleman when we were younger.”

“In my defense, I tried! I always seemed to get tongue-tied for some reason.”

She laughed. “I realized that some years later. I always thought you were simply an asshole, but after I saw you naked I spent a lot of time thinking about you, and I figured it out.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me! Not one of my finer moments. You left soon after that; I thought I’d scared you off.”

“On the contrary! Given what I’d seen, it was one of my biggest regrets about leaving, but the semester ended and I’d enrolled elsewhere for the following one.”

“Well, that eases my mind.” Trying to turn the conversation anywhere else, I said, “Shall we go?”

We did, and I drove to The Crestwood, a fancy older restaurant that was all that was left of what had, in our youth, been a fine old country club, but which was now a single building, incorporated into the commercial edge of a suburban neighborhood. I saw the young valet look askance at my meticulously restored ’67 Impala, although I think he liked the rumble of the big V8 and the custom-tuned exhaust, and I noticed his eyes shift, vibrate, and then lock on as he watched BJ slide out of the big front seat. I couldn’t determine if he was looking down her top or up her skirt; either way, he had to adjust himself as he circled the car to drive it away.

Inside, we went to the bar just long enough for one cocktail before being shown to our table, a secluded ‘U’-shaped booth where the waiter pulled the table out as we slid in. To my surprise, BJ chose the bottom of the ‘U’ so that she was seated alongside me rather than across. We ordered another drink and an appetizer and were then left alone, whereupon BJ, like a dog with a bone, picked up where she’d left off. “So, how did you come to be naked at a football game with sixty-thousand people in attendance?”

“Oh… Lord, I was so hoping you’d forgotten that!”

She laughed. “No chance of that! Tell me.”

“First, you tell me what you ‘figured out’ about me after seeing me that night.”

She smiled. “Oh, Hal, that’s an easy one! I figured out why your brain ceased functioning around me given the blood volume required elsewhere, of course, and that you weren’t being a thoughtless putz on purpose! Once I did, I was quite flattered by your buffoonery.”

I was blushing, but her typically frank comment made me laugh. “Ah, okay… and thanks, I think. And yes, that’s what I finally attributed it to as well.”

“Now, tell me how it came about that I was fortunate enough to witness you in all your glory.”

I sighed. “God. You and everyone else! It was our sophomore year and I was pledging a frat. It was the last game of the season, so it was then or never. They’d convinced me streaking the sideline at halftime was a part of the hazing and initiation - which, of course, it wasn’t – and then they blocked the exit at the far end, where I was supposed to run out of the stadium and get into a waiting car… fucking frat brothers! I’d have gotten away with it otherwise, but when you have to circle the entire field with security on your tail… well, you saw the result.”

“Indeed I did – and ooh-la-la, if I may say so!”

I laughed. “Thanks – a date that will live in infamy. Thank God, it was only a misdemeanor and a fifty-dollar fine back then; today, I’d end up on some sex crime registry or something. It was the one time I got a smile out of you, if I recall, standing there by the railing as they perp-walked me past.”

“What’s not to smile? You, stark naked except for your shoes, a big, beefy security guard on each arm, everyone laughing and pointing. You have to remember, I thought you hated me and so I hated you too, so I thought it was hilarious.”

“Thanks a lot! Good to know you enjoyed my humiliation and stupidity.”

“But also, I was quite impressed! You might have outrun them if you didn’t have that big thing flopping around down there.”

I felt myself blushing again, but I laughed. “God… and remember, it was also very cold out.”

“Oh, I remember, and I took that into account. Tell me, do you still possess that particular attribute?”

“Which one, stupidity or the other thing?”

“The other.” She smiled.

I nodded. “Yeah, you’re pretty much assigned one at birth and, barring anything calamitous, it stays with you from that point onward.”

She laughed. “So that’s the way that works – and, speaking of which, does it still work?” She put her hand high up on my thigh, and before I could formulate an answer, she’d found the long ridge of my cock along my right thigh, where it hangs when I’m wearing boxers, and wrapped her fingers over it.

I was once again tongue-tied, as I had been in my youth, and I remained that way as the waiter delivered our drinks and appetizer and she continued to gently squeeze and fondle me as she made small talk with him.

Once he’d departed, I hissed, “Jesus, BJ! Are you trying to get me arrested again?”

“Oh relax, Hal! He can’t see through the table and tablecloth. And never mind my question; I can feel that it still seems to work.”

It did, mostly. Oh, it doesn’t pop up like a Jack-in-the-Box anymore; now it was more like an old car jack instead, hoisting up a heavy vehicle one slow click at a time, a much more gradual process. I would eventually get fairly hard – again, not like my younger days, but serviceable – but for me, the embarrassing danger lay in not remaining that way for the duration. Hence, the pills.

“Yes, BJ, it works. For the most part…”

“For the most part?”

“Well, you know…” I shrugged. “As you said, we’re not youngsters anymore.”

“Perhaps you should take one of these, you think?” She held up a small blue tablet, trapped between the long nails of her thumb and index finger.

“I, uh… what…” I know I blushed and that I subconsciously reached down and patted my jacket pocket, where my pill bottle, now missing, had once been.

She laughed. “Yes, it’s one of yours. I picked your pocket.”

“Jesus, BJ! I can’t believe you did that. That’s terribly embarrassing!”

“Hal, you’re missing the big picture; what I’m trying to tell you is that you’re going to get laid tonight.”

“Oh. Well, yes, that does ease the pain a good deal.” I smiled. “Sorry I lied to you about the BP meds, but you understand.”

“I do – and you truly didn’t. Technically, these are a blood pressure medication, although they’re for raising it in a certain part of your anatomy rather than lowering it elsewhere.” As I laughed at her analysis, she raised her hand and poised it in front of my lips. “Open – and Hal, I know that neither one of us is a kid anymore. It’s all right.”

So I did, and she popped the pill in my mouth. I washed it down with a swig of my Manhattan; not a recommended procedure, but it worked. She watched me swallow, then said, “Is one enough?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Is one enough, or does it take two or three to operate this big thing?” She squeezed my semi-hard cock to make her point.

I laughed. “Oh, jeez BJ… no, one is plenty, thank you very much!”

“Hal, don’t be embarrassed, okay? If I could have popped a pill to raise my boobs the way you can with your cock, I would have jumped all over it! Way better than all of that expensive and painful surgery, don’t you think?

Admiring her honest pragmatism, I smiled. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I suppose so - although a permanent solution rather than one that requires timing and guesswork and embarrassing trips to the pharmacy might have been very attractive to me as well.”

“You found a solution, right? That’s all that matters.” She smiled gently. “And your blood pressure is okay? I’d hate to have you die on me.”

“Not nearly as much as I would, trust me. But yes, it’s fine. It may be a bit elevated right now, of course, but that’s to be expected.”

She laughed and continued to fondle me as our waiter delivered our salads. As we ate, I took the opportunity to return the favor, allowing my hand to wander to her thigh, whereupon she eagerly parted her legs to let me know that my exploration was welcomed. Her stockings were fine and silky, the soft skin above them even more so, and when I discovered the surprise of her uncovered sex I found her hot and wet and ready, the soft lips of her sex slippery with arousal.

When I softly stroked the large, hard nub of her clit, she moaned softly and said, “Mmm, that feels so nice! I’m one of the lucky ones that still get very juicy, as you may have noticed.”

“I did, and I agree - it does feel very nice!” I was rock hard, the sensation of her hot, slippery sex and her touch doing everything the medication had not yet had time to do, and as I slipped a finger into her all I could think about was how much I wanted to do the same with my cock!

She purred, “Make me come, Hal…”

So I did, stroking her erect, sensitive love nubbin and enjoying the sensuous feel of her soft slippery lips, and when she came, she uttered a small sound, half-grunt, half-moan as she clamped her thighs shut on my hand and ground herself against my fingers, her hand almost painfully tight around my hard shaft.

Our meals came shortly after she did, and she released me so that she could approach her food with the same gusto that she had our brief sexual encounter. As we awaited our dessert, by which time I could feel the stuffiness in my head that indicated that the blue pill was taking effect, she gave my cock another short test drive and seemed quite delighted with the result.

“Mmm, maybe we should skip dessert. I could just have you – I’ll bet you whip up a fine custard.”

I could only shake my head at her raw and bawdy sense of humor. Enjoying her teasing, I shifted in my seat, attempting to get comfortable. “Too late, we’ve ordered. We could always get it to go...”

“Ooohh, do that! We can eat it naked and lick any spills off each other.”

So I did and was soon limping awkwardly out of the restaurant carrying two small Styrofoam containers and trying to hide my bulge, all while admiring the wiggle of BJ’s plush, no-panty-line bottom as she led the way. We’d decided on her place as it was a few miles closer and time was a-wasting, the Viagra clock ticking, but we never made it. Well, not right at first, in any event!

She continued to stroke and fondle me as I drove, soon expertly unzipping me one-handed and fishing my erection and my aching balls out into the open, where she continued to deliver a pro-caliber handjob.

We weren’t more than six or eight blocks from the restaurant when she said, “Turn in here, quick!”

I did, jamming on the brakes and making a quick turn, then stopped and looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, except if I don’t get this magnificent cock in me soon, I think I might die! Drive around back…”

It was an old strip mall, six or seven small units lined up side-by-side, all dark and closed for the night. “BJ, here? Really?”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t had sex in a car in forty years! I wasn’t planning on...”

“Hal, your back seat is very roomy, and it’s vinyl upholstery, right?”

“Well, yes, but…”

She scooched away from me lay down across the wide bench seat, taking my cock into her mouth and down her throat, and I stopped questioning her judgment and drove around back. It was dark, all but one lone parking lot light burned out, and she continued to expertly fellate me in a way no woman ever had, taking my length down her throat with each plunge and tickling my balls with her tongue while she was there.

In the meanwhile, I reached over her back, pulled her skirt up, and sent my fingers on a "search and enjoy" mission. She was sopping, and she moaned when I pushed two fingers into her pussy and my thumb up her ass.

I was more huge and hard than I’d been in years and began to fear that she was soon going to get a taste of the custard she’d mentioned, which I didn’t think was the goal on this particular go-round. Sensing my pending orgasm as only a well-experienced woman might, she let my saliva-slick shaft slip from her mouth and paused, admiring it.

“I haven’t had a man of your impressive stature in years, Hal.”

I smiled. “Thanks. I’m sure you can handle it.”

“Oh, so am I, no doubt! Should we adjourn to the rumble seat?”

“Uh, I was sort of hoping for an opportunity to repay your oral kindness…”

She laughed. “I’m counting on it! C’mon…”

To my surprise, when she clambered out of the car, she stood alongside and stripped down to only her thigh-highs and heels, throwing her clothes into the front seat. My pants and boxers were around my knees anyway, so I followed her lead, kicking off my shoes and pants and then adding my sport coat to the growing pile of clothes upfront, retaining only my shirt and socks.

BJ crawled into the back seat head-first and turned onto her back, her head now at the open door where I stood. I quickly deduced that she expected me to crawl in over her, putting us in the classic ‘69’ position that many an amorous back-seat pairing has assumed over the years. I paused long enough to pay homage to each magnificent breast, the plump, erect rosy nipples of which commanded my attention, and then crawled carefully over her and lowered my eager lips to her equally eager sex.

She was sopping, the generous fleshy curtained lips of her big, experienced pussy puffy, hot, and slick, and her clit, as big as the end joint of my thumb, stood out proudly, demanding to be sucked. It didn’t have to ask me twice, and I latched onto it like a baby on a nipple, eagerly sucking her plump but diminutive erection. She was delicious and fragrant, her musky sexual flavor and scent sending pounding pulses of arousal to my nether regions as she again took me down her throat.

I brought her to three fast, grinding, intense orgasms in succession even as she expertly avoided bringing me to one, sliding my cock from her throat each time I got close and sucking my balls, pushing a wet finger up my ass until she sensed that the danger had passed and again took me into her mouth. I could have gone on that way indefinitely, happier with my face buried in her glorious sex than I had any right to be, but again, she had other ideas.

As she held me gently, waiting for another throbbing close call to pass, she let my testicles slip from her mouth and said, “In me now, Hal! I want this big boy of yours deep in my pussy!”

As I wondered if she’d ever ask anything of me that I wasn’t already aching to do, we rearranged ourselves, a few old bones and joints popping and creaking in protest, until she was on hands and knees and I was behind and bent over her, my saliva-slick erection between her generous ass cheeks and my back and shoulders against the ceiling of the car.

She rolled down her window and rested her forearms on the door sill, her head out the window to give us a bit more room, and turned and said, “Now, Hal, all of it, deep inside of me!”

I questioned whether “all of it” would be possible – it often isn’t, as I’m a bit too long for many women and have three or four inches that often don’t make it in at all, and never without causing discomfort – but BJ knew her body and when I reached down and guided myself into her waiting heat, I sank slowly into her, full depth. Her voluptuous body opened and welcomed me, closing warm and wet and incredible around my girth as my length glided inward, and when I felt my balls against her puffy sex and her velvet sleeve grip me, I moaned in ecstasy.

“You okay back there?”

“Oh, god yes! Fuck, BJ, all the crazy things I’ve fantasized about you don’t even come close to the real thing!”

“Ohh, you too, Hal! Where have you been all these years?”

I wondered the same; as good as it feels to be in any eager pussy - and even at half-depth or so, the most sensitive parts of me are inside and I have no problem achieving orgasm – the sensation of every millimeter of my hard cock wrapped in silky, wet female heat is indescribable and irreplaceable. Inside of her to the hilt, I set about enjoying it to the hilt as well and began to vigorously fuck her.

Giving as good as she got, BJ began to buck back against me, thrusting her pussy onto my cock and demanding all I had. I sort of wished I’d rolled down the window behind me too, as her thrusts frequently mashed my bare ass against the cold glass, but I could ignore that, and did. Bent over her back the way I was in the tight confines of the car, it made it very convenient to reach around her and mash and maul her ample, swinging breasts, so I did that as well, eventually moving one hand down to give her jutting, prominent clit some individual attention.

That brought her yet another raucous orgasm, and just as she began to settle back down from that there was a loud thump on the roof and an authoritative male voice shouting, “Hey, you kids in there, stop that nonsense this instant!”

Startled, I banged my head on the ceiling just as a brilliant flashlight shined in through the rear window. “Oh, for God’s sake! You folks are old enough to know better than that; you can’t do this in public! What’s wrong with you people?”

He was circling the rear of the car as he spoke, from behind me to where BJ’s head stuck out the window. She’d stopped thrusting back against me, although I could still feel her rhythmically squeezing my length when she said, “Steve, is that you?”

“BJ? BJ, is that you in there? How many times have I told you not to fuck in public? My God, you’re never going to grow up, are you…” He suddenly emitted a startled yelp as she grabbed him by the belt buckle and yanked him forward. In less time than it takes to say ‘blowjob’, she expertly had his zipper down and his equipment out, his balls in her hand and his cock in her mouth.

He immediately stopped objecting and started enjoying, his cock rapidly hardening as he thrust into her mouth and BJ resumed her thrusting back against me. With my typically keen intuition, I sensed that this was not the first time they’d met.

Being spit-roasted quickly brought her to a noisy, shuddering orgasm, after which she let his now rock-hard and saliva-slick cock slip from her lips so that she could introduce us. Bent over her back as I was, my head alongside hers and his wet, upright cock just inches in front of me, I felt like we’d already met – and I noticed that he too was generously endowed, something BJ clearly has a knack for finding.

“Steve, this is my old friend, Hal, from my high school and college days. We haven’t seen each other in years!”

“Good to see you’re slowly getting reacquainted, BJ.”

“Steven, be nice! Hal, this is my friend Steve, who works for the police department.”

I leaned awkwardly to stick my hand out the window. He took it and we shook hands, the incongruity of the polite greeting at odds with his naked arousal and my hard cock buried inside of the woman between us. Still, we observed the formality. “Officer, nice to meet you.”

“Call me Steve – and, after seeing your ass and balls mashed against the window over there, I feel like we’ve already met. That’s something nobody should ever have to stumble onto unawares, by the way.”

I felt myself blush. “Sorry about that.”

He laughed. “It’s okay; I’m a professional, after all. I just need to decide if I should bleach my eyes or my brain first!”

BJ admonished him, “Steven, I told you to be nice! If you’re not careful, I won’t finish what we started…”

“Hal knows I’m kidding; right, Hal?”

“Sure. Fuck, I wouldn’t want to see my old ass mashed up against a window either! Now your ass, Beej, that I could go for!”

“Maybe later, Hal; this time I want you in my pussy just where you are! And golly, nobody has called me ‘Beej’ in years. I’d forgotten how much I hate it.”

We laughed, and she resumed sucking him and fucking me. She came twice more, both times long and loud and shuddering with pleasure. Shortly after her second, he groaned and announced that he was coming.

BJ said, “Watch this!” and turned her head to the side so that I could see her jacking his big organ into her mouth. With the action inches from my face, I’d have had to close my eyes to not watch. I did not do so, eager to observe, and so I witnessed each and every huge spurt of his cum as she held him inches from her open lips. Most of it made it into her mouth – clearly not the first time she’d performed this stunt for an audience – but some streaked her lips, cheek, and chin when she paused to swallow, and as he continued to pump out pulse after huge pulse of semen her mouth overflowed a second time and it ran down the side of my car.

That was too much for me – I’d never seen anything like that before except in adult videos, and this had better visuals (in extreme close-up!) plus sound, scent, and touch involved too – and I suddenly began to come, pulsing and pumping deep inside of her soft body. She came again as I throbbed and gushed inside of her, Officer Steve’s cock once again deep in her mouth and his balls against her chin as she finished draining him dry.

After, when she’d slid free of my softening cock and turned to sit on the back seat and he stood alongside the car, his satiated organ still dangling from his open zipper, he shined the flashlight into the car again, focusing the beam on my crotch.

“Fuck… I shoulda known! That’s an impressive cock for an old guy.”

BJ laughed. “You need to work on your compliments, Steve – but you do know my type!” She looked at me. “I’ve become more selective as I’ve gotten older, Harold.”

“I see. Well, I’m certainly glad our paths crossed and I qualified, in any event.”

She reached out and lifted my semi-limp cock. “Me too! Shall we go back to my place for more fun and games?”

I was mildly surprised but more than willing. “You don’t have to ask me twice!”

She smiled, then leaned forward and took my cum-slathered cock into her mouth for a nice warm tongue bath. Letting me slip free, she smacked her lips. “I do so love the blend of cum and pussy, don’t you?”

“Umm…” She stretched up and kissed me, her face and lips slick with cum, and when our lips parted she watched me lick mine. I said, “Huh, whatta you know… Surprisingly tasty!”

"I'm so glad you like it! I can show you where to find some more..." I'm not sure what the expression on my face might have told her, but she laughed. “Oh, Harold, there’s so much I can teach you!”

I watched her lick my cock again. “I’ll bet that’s true...”

“Good thing you just got your prescription refilled, big boy! Steve, would you care to join us?”

“Sure. I get off work at one…” That seemed to remind him he was working, and he glanced over at his still-running cop car where it was pulled up behind my Impala. “Oh, fuck! I think I left the dash-cam turned on!”

He rushed off to his car, his cock still flopping free as BJ laughed uproariously. “He’s a bit of a screwup, but very open-minded and a great fuck. You’ll see.”

He returned, grinning ruefully. “I may not be able to get there until two or so. I’m probably going to have to give Shirley a good fuck and some very personal pussy cleanup, if you catch my drift, to get that video deleted. BJ, I may be down for the count for a spell.” He looked at me. “Hal, do you enjoy getting your cock sucked?”

“Well… sure. Who doesn’t like their cock sucked?”

“By someone like me, I mean.”

“Oh. Umm… gosh. Well, I don’t know; I’ve never been sucked by a cop before. Been screwed a few times…”

BJ laughed again. “Good answer, Harold! You’re going to be so much fun… there’s a swingers group I belong to that’s getting together this weekend. A more, um, mature group you might say, very open-minded. We bring dates – you can be mine – and add a few random young men from time to time for obvious reasons, as Steve knows. You really should join us; I think you’ll find that you’ll be hugely popular…

~~~~~

Bumping into Bobbie Jo had already allowed me to cross one major regret off my list; it appeared that, while I would undoubtedly never thru-hike any of the famous trails or acquire a Shelby Cobra at this stage of life, if I stuck with BJ I would soon likely be crossing off several other, more personal regrets!