Chapter 1

Years ago, when I was a young puppy and not yet married, there was a sweet young secretary in my office who loved to wear dresses with deep scoop necks. She was kind enough to bend forward sufficiently whenever I was around, to allow me to enjoy and be impressed by her incredibly long nipples, which always seemed to be aroused. So was I, to tell you the truth.

However, this was long before the sexual revolution and both of us were engaged to others, so there was little expectation of carrying things further than some advanced flirting.

This was at the time that Hugh Hefner had a regular column in his Playboy magazine, called “The Playboy Forum”, as I recall. It seemed to me to reflect a remarkably sensible outlook on life, which did not necessarily fit his image as a complete wastrel and libertine.

One of the concepts he proposed, with tongue somewhat near the cheek, seemed to have some merits. He proposed that people should have three marriages or at least three committed relationships based on age matchups. He suggested that a good arrangement would be for fifteen year olds to marry thirty-ish partners. The fifteen year old boy could have a beautiful, sexy loving partner who was fully experienced in the ways of love and who might have an established career and income.

The prevailing alternative was to deny the sexual needs of fifteen year old boys, who were bursting with hormones and easy prey for any sweet young thing who offered her body in trade for a guarantee of lifetime support. The result was what a thinking person might expect. A pair of inexperienced teenagers with no skills in the marketplace or the bedroom, trying to find their way in the world when neither could lead the other. Divorce, bankruptcy, hardship and a host of other negatives inevitably followed.

Hefner’s solution looked very attractive to me. Pairing hormone laden teenage boys with experienced, still attractive women (they would be MILFs today), gave the kid what he wanted in his wet dreams and gave the more mature woman a sex toy with inexhaustible stamina. Similarly, the hormone laden teenage girl would get a Sugar Daddy, with a store of tricks that would make her swoon and the resources to provide her with the kind of lifestyle that she had dreamed of.

When the teenagers reached thirty, he proposed that they find their own teenager and their now-45 partner could hook up with someone their own age to live out the remainder of their life. Their fantasies of having a sex toy having been satisfied and their careers and financial security more established, they would be much better able to make partnership choices without the brain-addling effect of hormones.

I have clumsily reported Hefner’s vision, but it has been more than fifty years since I read it. Still, the concept has stuck with me and I have tested the theory in my mind many times as I grew older and somewhat more mature. As a theory, I still like it a lot. As a practice, it is unlikely to ever be widely adopted. Pity. It might give me a shot at one of those 60-year old GMILFs I see running around.

Getting back to Peggy and her two inch nipples (which is how I remember them), another thing I picked up from reading Playboy (I did buy it for the pictures, but also read it from cover to cover), was a point made in the forum that those who ask for sex get a lot more sex than those who only wish for sex. The penalty for asking might be unpleasant. The penalty for not asking was doing without.

This also struck me as wonderfully good sense. The next time I was alone in the office with Peggy and she was providing me with glimpses of those wonderful nipples, I put myself up to it.

“Peggy, how would you like to make love with me?” I held my breath for the explosion I feared and the trouble it might cause for me. It would only take one word from her for my career to be in shambles. Why didn’t I think about that before I opened my mouth? Hormones, was the only answer that came to mind.

Peggy drew herself up, as well as closing off the delicious gap between her chest and her dress. “Well! I’m not in the habit of doing such things!”

At least she didn’t blow the rape whistle. I got the feeling that she was more surprised than insulted, so I went ahead on my disastrous course. “I didn’t ask whether you were in the habit of such things. I merely asked if you would like to.”

That stumped her. I may have been the first person to raise the question with her.

“Uh, well, I guess so.”

Success! And I was still alive. Now, what to do with this new knowledge? As I said, we were both engaged and we worked together. It would be damned difficult to do anything concrete with this new knowledge, so I took the only visible alternative. I merely smiled and thanked her, leaving her with a smile on her face for having her ego puffed a bit, and I was smiling for the same reason.

The subject never came up again and there was no awkwardness between us. Life went on as if it had never happened. We both married our intended partners knowing that there was at least one other person in life who might have been interested.

This experience cemented the concept in my mind, but my life was already set in motion, with little chance to color outside the lines. Career, marriage, children, career moves following the job market and I was on my second wife, with teenage boys who would give their left nut to find a willing 30-year old woman who would be willing to help them with their problem.

In fact, one of them came close to adopting Hefner’s plan. He lived for some years with a much older woman, but this was after he had moved out and we weren’t as close after I divorced his mother. He is now married to a woman near his age. Some day we should discuss his opinions of the path he chose.

Bear with me here, I am laying the groundwork for my ultimate plan. I had witnessed the power of asking for what I wanted, way back there, with Peggy and her wonderful nipples. (I can still see them in my mind. So long, so pink, so sweet. I wanted to suck them so badly.)

While driving down the freeway with my second wife, I kept an eye in my rear view mirror for an opening in the traffic that would allow me to safely move into a faster lane. Every time I thought an opening was coming up, someone would fill it. I commented that it seemed as if the world were conspiring to prevent my moving over.

She floored me with a comment that reminded me of what I had witnessed with Peggy, but had never put into practice in any real manner. “Why should you expect anyone to let you in when you have never let them know you want to move?”

Simple, right? I immediately recognized her comment as a metaphor for life. Why the fuck not? I flipped on my blinker, gave the overtaking traffic enough time to avoid me and simply went where I had wanted to go for such a long time.

What a relief! How simple life can be when you are able to see it clearly.

The last piece of the puzzle fell into place a bit later. I have always been interested in psychology. In fact, my mother’s evil stepmother had earned a Master’s degree in Abnormal Psychology. The entire family said it was typecasting.

I had also been interested in paranormal events and since I was living in freeway land at the time, I was able to enroll in a course that was advertised as an “ESP” course. The instructor immediately disavowed that the course was truly about anything that would normally be called ESP and offered to refund any fees paid by those who felt wronged by his actions.

The course changed my life even more than the two mantras previously mentioned. It taught me that the underlying theme of the course was true--that all humans have mental capabilities far beyond what is considered normal, but that we are conditioned by society to suppress these capabilities and to deny their existence. Our instructor taught us methods that could bypass the usual mental obstacles so that we could learn to perform activities we would otherwise believe impossible, by simply using methods that exploited loopholes in our mental defenses.

It was this course, in addition to a powerful book I read at the same time that gave me the incentive and confidence to divorce my wife and be free to pursue my dream of being married to a woman I truly loved.

The final link in the plan fell into place years later. Fundamental truths are so damned obvious after you realize them. Why does it take so long to be able to see them?

I was on a train passing through Belgium and the beautiful young girl sitting beside me was part of a group of apparent students traveling together. When the group got up and headed to the exit, she excused herself and joined them. I was disappointed to see her go. They stood in the vestibule, waiting for the train to arrive at their destination. I don’t have any idea why they had gotten up so early because we were several minutes away.

Just for the hell of it, I began concentrating on my previous seat mate, that I could see through the glass door. As an exercise, I began transmitting a strong message to her. “I WANT YOU TO COME BACK AND SIT WITH ME. DO IT NOW.”

I didn’t really expect anything to come of it, but I did notice some of the other girls looking at her and at me, so I sent it again. “I WANT YOU TO COME BACK AND SIT WITH ME. DO IT NOW.”

Oddly, it felt as if they were all hearing my mental blast and knew it was intended for the girl who had sat with me. I sent, again and again, “I WANT YOU TO COME BACK AND SIT WITH ME. DO IT NOW.”, without truly believing it would cause her to submit. Just the notion that she could pick up my thoughts was exciting, so I continued.

When she pushed through the door and came back to where I was sitting, the hair raised on my arms. She was actually, fucking, doing it. The icing on the cake came when she asked querulously as she brushed past me to sit by the window in her previous seat, “Why do you want me? I’m just a high school girl?”