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Mature man discovers younger women are attracted to him.
Tom and Charlie. They had been inseparable back in the day, best friends since they met each other at sixth form college, went through university together at King's. And that's when he met Amy. It was love at first sight. For him.
He tried not to remember those times, but once he went down the rabbit hole it was hard to claw his way out again. He felt again her hand on his thigh, the big blue eyes gazing into his, the erotic charge that blazed between them as their lips met for the first time - his na__ve desire countered by her experienced and discerning power.
The train was speeding him towards her again. Lost in his thoughts, he couldn't even remember buying the ticket, climbing aboard, finding a seat. The petite brunette in the seat beside him was cute, he suddenly realised. He felt her looking at him with a sideways longing and he was tempted to speak, to ask her where she was going and abandon his best friend's birthday, just take to the road with this pretty girl. But he knew it was impossible.
He got a taxi from the station and before he knew it he was milling through the crowd of Charlie's guest choking every inch of the semi-detached house his parents had given over for the party. Tom found himself a drink and got chatting to a group of economists he thought he might remember from student days but couldn't be sure. His head was a blur of fear, feelings, excitement.
He was already eager to get home when he saw her. She was gliding down the stairs, a golden star-beam drifting soundless, untouchable through the heaving bodies gathered on the steps. On the last two she suddenly stopped. She was always like that, like a cat: she felt his eyes burning into her, and turned to meet them.
For what felt like an eternity they gazed at one another. His mouth was dry, his head pulsed with pain and fear and lust. Her lips curled into her enigmatic smile, half mocking, almost on the brink of laughter. Then with a wink she turned away from him, a splash of blonde hair flicking out behind her and she was gone.
He followed her. The impulse was too great and he burst from the group he was standing in while some guy was mid-sentence. It was a painfully slow effort to barge through the crush of dancing figures but he kept the back of her head in view, sashaying like a slow-motion dream over to the sliding doors and out onto the patio. He stood motionless on the other side of the glass as she bent to slip off her shoes and turned back to him. Her head cocked at an inquisitive angle, as though to ask, Are you coming?
She blew a kiss, laughed, and sped off down the garden, unlatched the back gate and was out into the gravel road that led to the fields. And I was hot in pursuit, out the gate before it had swung shut and after her.
She was racing over the fields. In one stride she leapt over the rushing stream that wound through the outskirts of the village, and he knew where she was heading for. Their regular meeting spot.
He caught her just on the edge of the orchard, his hand reaching out to grab her by the upper arm and spin her back into his arms. She fell on him with wild abandon, ripping at his lips with her savage mouth, digging her nails into his back through his shirt.
"I want to have you again, Tom," she whispered in his ear, sending shivers of excitement through his tense body. He hands drifted down her thinly-clad form in smooth, slow swirls until he clutched her buttocks and pulled her towards him.
They crashed together and collapsed to the grass under the shade of an apple tree. She sat astride him, her luscious hair washing over his face, her pressing mouth spreading kisses down his body until she reached his flies, unzipped him and pulled his aching cock up into her mouth as deep as it could go.
She gasped as she rose for air and laughed, "I forgot how big you were, baby!" before she plunged down once more, sending wave after wave of pleasure rocking through him.