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At this point there were hormonal resonances from both of us. Chemical changes whose only outward indicator is a certain retinal opening, the precursor of other openings to be pried and poked. Someone will no doubt invent an app to tell you the optimal time to put a mouth to a mouth or a finger to a pussy.
I try not to let him see my grin. He must know by now I am shameless. But I persist with my feigned indifference. “Now how did we get onto that topic?” Spoken with a schoolteacher’s authority.
Then I moved off to another chore, knowing he would find me squatting comfortably and casually in the metre high lettuces that were going to seed, or cutting back some scorched raspberry canes.
He makes appreciative noises about my flexibility. Men are so transparent. It’s a lighthearted but gently escalating flirtation. He kept coming back to topics relating to my sexual disposition. My replies an attempt at womanly restraint yet politely engaged. Fooling no one.
Restraint not my strong suit but I had to retain dignity. A more sensible woman would have silenced him with a terse ‘None of your business’. Or just grabbed him, or showed him a tit. Making the first move is not one of my social algorithms. I wanted him to fully out himself. Would he let the words tip into action?
Later, chit chat about dating sites. “I don’t want to trade in one old goat for another.”
“You need a young man. You can advertise on Gumtree!”
“Good idea. Applications taken.” Can’t make it much clearer than that.
“You could go clubbing.”
“Not my style but I appreciate your suggestions.”
The last time he was here we talked about houses and how he thinks I should give him one. “You could adopt me.” A nice neutral way to put it. He is indecently young.
He attacks some unwanted agapanthus with the pick, I cut back dead grape tendrils I planted on the pool fence, noting to myself to put paper bags around the few grape clusters lest the birds pick them to the stem before I can harvest them.
Last year I had a good crop of grapes, but this year not too many. Within weeks I’ll be leaving my bountiful garden behind, never to return to its tending.
I suspect this sweet fellow is actually quite inexperienced, maybe shy. All the clever comebacks gaziantep ateşli escort bayan I had rehearsed in my fantasies discarded. I’m newly embarrassed by my own experienced but rusty flirtation skills. It’s like riding a bike, comes back in a rush, full-blown. This dear young man has not been round the traps yet. My verbal traps cautiously laid.
“Don’t think I’ll do internet dating. I’ll join a bush walking group, or a book club, or go dancing…I’ll bet you have lots of girls chasing after you.”
“Of course.” In a bragging tone that meant not really.
I giggle. “Good. That’s the way it should be.”
Next he’s telling me about an exercise that helps a good butt. I used to have a good butt. Then it’s squats he recommends.
“Oh those, I do those anyway.”
At the time I was knees up trying to revive the parched cucumbers. Not a good crop this year, I haven’t been here consistently enough to keep the water up to them. Withered is how I felt too. Until he showed up. Nothing like attention from a younger man for freshening the libido.
It’s a polite conversation, not quite sexy or salacious, but politely and inexorably moving in that direction. Well outside the bounds of employee needs to know.
At one point I tore my pants on a bush I was trimming. I had selected them knowing the risks that gardening poses to such soft fabric, but I think they make me look sleeker. Also very easy to remove, as he later discovered.
“I’ll just cut the other leg to match.”
He shows me dips, using the wooden planter box. Like much else on this property, including the relationship that bought it, it is falling apart.
I show him my push-ups, we mention Pilates in passing. He is very into physical fitness, does footy training in the cold Canberra winter. Wants to study sport therapy. About 6 ft, blue eyes, big open smile.
This brings out my sense of nobless oblige, even if it is mixed with a sprinkle of ‘droit de maitresse’. In this social setting, any possible dabbling is completely legal, hopefully even scandalous.
Would I turn down such an opportunity? I’d have to be crazy.
His time is up, He comes upstairs so I can pay him. He flops admiringly on the bakımlı escort gaziantep big leather lounge. Great place for a fuck. I’m still hoping his thoughts aren’t much different.
Eventually, after showing him the house and my now abandoned plans for refurbishment, flat downstairs, bla bla, it is time for him to go. Don’t think he’s interested in my renovating skills. I should have shown him some of my yoga poses or dance moves, but that might drive him mad.
We stand at the gate, but he lingers. I know he’s struggling for something to say that will put us in the open waters of lust, sink or swim.
But the goddess does not prey on youngsters. Not overtly anyway. I graciously fill the now embarrassing conversational gap. “And what do you have planned for the weekend?”
“I’m going out with my family for my birthday.”
“How old will you be?”
I make an inward gulp. Now that’s very young. Ridiculously young. Does he have any idea I’ve got 50 years on him?
Still legal, but no wonder he doesn’t quite know how to conclude this episode. There won’t be anymore gardening sessions, as I was moving out. I’d resigned myself to accepting it was all just flirtatious bluster, or perhaps he was just too shy.
The time is overdue for him to finish, brush cutter packed in his truck. But he doesn’t leave and doesn’t leave, the few words exchanged still teetering on open suggestiveness.
He asks “Will you be out dating?”
“No, just home with a book and a movie.” On my wide empty couch.
“You’ll have to start looking.”
“You mustn’t tease me, or I’ll get ideas.” That was all I could offer. If he doesn’t make the move now, it will be for him to mourn the lost moment.
Again he declares “You need a younger man.”
My internal perhaps eternal sigh. I need a man, that’s for sure.
I took the risk, with a smile: “And where would I find such a young man?”
That did it. He darted a nervous lunge and kiss,
Already a bit breathless I say “You could come back later,” but he whispers ‘now’ and leads me inside. We’re on the bed downstairs, curtains pulled closed, and he efficiently pulls my pants and panties off. He starts to lick me, I am thinking gaziantep bayan escort yes this will happen. But then a sudden halt.
“I really want to, but I feel bad. I’m afraid your ex will find out. ” I’m caressing his wonderful bulging muscles, what a treat.
But like the responsible matron that I pretend to be, I’m counselling him. “That’s ok, I don’t want you to feel bad. ” Mutter Courage but he’s not one of my Kinder..
About 2 minutes after he finally drove off, apologising, my son arrived. Much as I hope to still be able to embarrass my children, it could have been awkward. Earlier my neighbor had popped into the back yard, as we were weeding and chatting. It is unlikely that she could have overheard the nature of our banter, but there just might have been a hint of curiosity. She vanished out the back to check the pool pump and then disappeared.
This boy may be in a bit over his head, doesn’t know how to resolve our little game. He doesn’t really know a lot about gardening either, but he wields the necessary power tools with confidence. Not in my nature to retreat from such an opportunity.
As he apologised again, while walking away, I said something disingenuous like “I respect you for that.” Another tease that was not right in the setting. Hard not to feel like the cat that didn’t quite catch the mouse. An effort to be gracious, feeling the telltale dampness between my legs.
I harbour a sly hope that he will writhe with regret this weekend. When he called to apologise again I said “I wanted to give you some loving for your birthday.” That drew a slight moan. Serves him right, he can roil, I can boil, but not together. Makes no sense.
For now my fantasies will have to remain in the ‘to do’ list. There was never any question of me saying no, and in some small way (but not enough!) just having his desire confirmed is good fun in itself.
Hell, two years ago I had breast cancer. That’s a badge that I choose not to use as a psychological disabled sticker. I will do as I wish for as long as I can. And this year, today, I could have.
Today it didn’t happen. As a bodice ripper, it only got as far as him pulling my pants off on the bed and fumbling. Left bare-assed and comforting him. As a serotonin lifter, it sure did the trick. My happy take away: if this handsome young man is tempted, surely there must be men my own age who would find me attractive. True enough as I was to find out over the next few years.
He called me later to reiterate his misgivings, and I reassured him again. He wants to stay in touch, maybe when I move to the other house.
“Would you still help me in the garden across town?”
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