Funny story. How, you might ask, did it come to be that I was bent over a toilet in the casino’s ladies’ room getting fucked by my ever-loving husband? The answer is uncharacteristically simple—day drinking at a wine festival.
It’s not my fault. I would never have found myself in that position without the bad influences of some of you who are reading this. You know who you are. I blame and thank you.
We planned for two nights away at a very nice hotel, and there were twelve or ten or twenty wineries represented at the festival (I honestly can’t remember).
We bought the enhanced tickets so we could start at noon. I mean, so that we could get the per-bottle discount. (Yes, let’s go with that.) I’m sixty-six and my husband (I’ll cleverly refer to him as “Hubby”) is sixty-four. (Yes, I like ‘em young.) We use coupons and get discounts and look for early bird specials. We’re walking stereotypes.
Mostly.
We’re a very charming couple. Hubby told the folks pouring the wines that we had just met outside in line, and I told the truth, that we’ve been married for most of our lives. When you’re charming and when you buy a bottle after the first taste, the pours get bigger.
What does this have to do with the aforementioned bathroom sex? Think about it. Do the math. Sometimes we’d get a fourth or fifth heavy pour. On the way out, we needed to get a rum slushie. And one of the wineries had a tasting room right around the corner and, as you might have guessed, we had been given a coupon for a free tasting.
What does a charming senior-ish couple do drunk at four in the afternoon? Why, they walk to the nearby casino is what.
The story, sans sex, should have ended there but for once in our lives, we were winning at the slot machines. That added to the buzz and I started telling Hubby, with increasing volume, what I was going to do to him when we got back to our hotel room.
That’s a whole different level of charming, and a lot of people were smiling at us. Personally, I believe that I was quite discreet when I grabbed at his crotch. Hubby begged to differ.
It occurred to me in a hazy flash that we didn’t have to leave the casino to have sex. (This was due to the bad influences that I mentioned earlier.) I told Hubby to walk me to the ladies’ room. I looked inside and then said to him, “Come with.”
“What?”
“Come in with me.”
“Why?”
I gave him my (patent pending) look. He knew that look.
“Oh, no-no-no,” he said.
“Oh, yes-yes-yes,” I countered.
He considers himself to be the more level-headed one. “No.”
I was also quite discreet when I pulled my panties out from under my dress. His lips might have been saying “no” but the lump in his pants said, “I’m seriously thinking about it.”
“We shouldn’t. What if we get caught?”
“If you won’t fuck me, then I’ll find someone who will.”
Hubby hates ultimatums. “Good luck with that.”
Can you tell where he went wrong?
“Don’t you think I’m desirable enough?”
“That’s not what I said.”