Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Slut Wife, First, Safe Sex, Slow,
Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Vince was just an average retired guy in a Midwestern town. Until he took a part time job in the local food store and got dragged into giving advice on boys to a horny teen cashier. Within 18 months time he married the girl's former barfly grandma and moved to LA and hung around with some really fun Hollywood characters.
My name is Vince Brock and I'm sixty five. I've always loved women, young and old, but never been overly obsessed with sex or sexual conquests. In fact I prefer older women and never did more than look twice at hot young things generations or two different than me.
But that changed when I took a retirement supplementing job at a local small supermarket. When you walk into any local store and see the clerks, you notice many of them are young, somewhat attractive, girls and certainly I have noticed that. But any fantasies I might have had about them is based on my being their age, with the wisdom I have now, and how I'd make them pant for my younger alter-ego.
I have to preface this account with the fact that girls really havent changed all that much since I was in my late teens and early twenties, they are still mainly interested in boys, and how to catch and keep them. The openness in how they discuss that, however, has changed.
That I was struck with on my second day, second shift, at work. I was restocking and on one trip back into the storeroom I overheard two of my young coworkers as they exited the bathroom.
"So, have you and Mark done it yet?" That was Merrilee, a nice looking HS Senior who had been working at the store as cashier for at least two years; while I was a customer, she'd always had a pleasant word or two for me when I checked out.
"We've talked about it. He goes down on me, and I give him a handjob now and then. But he's so nervous about it, I'm not sure how good it would be."
That would be Tabitha; a slightly chunky, but cute enough, teen who I guessed was maybe seventeen; I knew she had to call someone else to run beer and wine through the scanner. I'd joked with her, too, of course about her name ... I asked her how 'Samantha, her mother' was and she'd responded "How do you know my Mom?" Which took me aback a little until she burst out in giggles. Obviously it wasnt the first time she'd been teased about the connection of her name and the TV show, 'Bewitched'.
I was pulling the handtruck, laden with produce, down the aisle of pallets and nearly ran into them as I turned the corner. The girls giggled as they realized I might have heard them.
Merrilee laughlingly piped "Are you eavesdropping, you dirty old man?"
"Nothing I haven't heard before, Sis!" I just kept on trucking, to coin a phrase.
There was no further banter, that day.
A three workday calendar week passed and I barely spoke to either of the girls. They were scheduled roughly the same days I was ... which was intentional on the part of the owner. He felt that workteams performed better than individual employees scheduled on whim of their own preference.
One evening Tab approached me, however, and asked if I had kids.
"Yeah ... I have three boys, all of them older than you, though. My youngest is thirty."
She went on to tell me she was the oldest of three, she had a ten year old sister and 8 year old brother. Then told me she wished she'd been a boy.
I laughed. "I know it isn't easy being a teenage girl but boys don't really have it much better."
She looked at me, face full of disbelief, "Well that isn't true."
"Sure it is."
"Boys get all the breaks, they get to pick who they ask out. Girls have to wait to be asked out."
I shook my head. "Give me an example."
"There's this boy I like and we -at least he- seems to be stuck on being just friends."
"You two date?"
"Yeah ... but I think he just 'likes me'."
"Why's that? I mean what gives you that idea?"
"I only see him, alone I mean, a couple times a week."
She went on to tell me that he treated her like a girlfriend but seemed to not pay much attention to her unless they were out on a date. He didn't date anyone else but it bothered her he wasn't more attentive.
"So you feel neglected. But if he treats you okay, and doesn't take after other girls, what more do you want?"
That evidently touched on more than she wanted to discuss, her face flushed and she mumbled "Just something more..." and walked away. Being older and smarter, I didn't protest and just went on with my work.
Nine or ten days later...
"Did you really hear what Merrilee and I were talking about that time?"
"What time?" I winked.
"We were talking about sex."
"I'm not telling you if I did or not. It's none of my business and like I said, I've heard it before. I might have even heard your grandma talking about her sex life. Not her, specifically, but girls who are now her age."
"You're lying. This is different..."
I laughed. "No it isn't. You guys sure didn't invent sex and you're not the first to actually talk about it."
She looked a little shocked ... probably thinking about her grandma recounting blow jobs or something.
"I'll give you ONE difference though ... she sure wouldn't be discussing it with an old geezer. Unless he was her shrink, maybe."
"I can't afford a shrink."
"That's not what I meant."
"If I asked you..."
I held up my hand.
"Ask your mother."
"She doesn't like to talk about sex."
"Of course she doesn't ... she's worried about saying the wrong thing. All parents like to think their kids are pure as driven snow."
"Did you? I mean, did you think your kids were doing it?"
"I was pretty sure they were. and we worried like any other parents."
She looked at me intently, as if she wanted some answer.
"What did you tell them?"
"Nothing ... because they didn't ask."
"You were chicken."
She laughed and went back to her register. But on her next break, she looked me up again.
"Do you mind me asking you all these questions? You're easy to talk to and I just don't feel right talking this deep with my mom about it. And you used to be a guy..."
"No ... but the answers might not be what you want to hear. And I'm STILL a guy, last time I went to the john anyway."
"It's about Mark ... the boy I was telling you about ... he still hasn't tried to go all the way."
"That's complicated. It doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't want to; what's his family and religious life and outlook like?"
"He goes to church every Sunday with his family ... but so do lots of kids I know ... and..."
I explained to her that it was the lessons he TOOK from his upbringing that counted; I asked her if she'd heard of him doing it with any other girls.
"Well, when I went out with him the first time, Tanya claimed she had already done it with him. But she's a slut and she's been caught lying about that, before."
"Well, there ya go!"
"But there's another thing ... what if he's gay? Some girls I chat with on-line say if a guy doesn't try to screw you but asks you out a lot, he might be gay."
I thought about that a minute. It was a possibility, of course it always HAS BEEN ... even when I was a teen.
"What happens when you kiss him?"
"Oooh... " she flushed a little " I get sorta tingly and short of breath, and..."
I laughed. "No ... not you. What happens to him?"
She looked confused. "I don't know. He never said."
"I'll draw a picture, honey. Does he get hard?"
"When we just kiss? I don't know. For sure, anyway."
"Does he breathe hard when you make out?"
"Eventually ... and I know he DOES get hard too. I give him a handjob, now and then"
"He's thinking of the 'handjob', then. Do you want a good test?"
"Make out and kiss him passionately. Then take his hand and put it on your boob and press it. Then after about thirty seconds of that, put his hand on your crotch and ask him to rub it. If he's a regular teenage guy, that's all it should take."
"That sounds gross, I mean so 'planned' and everything."
"I bet you think about it a couple times and you'll find it's a natural reaction ... you wont even think about it when the time comes. That is assuming you LIKE the feel of his hand on your boob and crotch."
She blushed and turned to walk away, then turned again.
"What if he doesn't..."
"It's about 80% it will ... but remember that's not the ONLY reason."
I watched her walk away. Like most late teen girls in jeans, she had a really delicious looking ass.
That night, I had a really great wet dream. In it, I was a gangly awkward 18 and I was parked with Tabitha, at one of my old 'Lover's Lane' haunts. And everything went as I prescribed for her. I had my finger in her pussy, and then I woke with the strongest rod I'd had in months and a gooey mess in my boxers.
Being my age, I mainly cussed silently and went to the bathroom to wash off the sticky and change shorts. But I had a hard time getting to sleep. What if that were a 'portent' or sign? It wouldn't be the first time that happened, and I finally did get to sleep thinking of the previous occasions I'd had it happen that I'd wet dreamed about sex with some girl before it occurred for real.