Chapter 1

There was a mix-up on my Thai takeout order. The middle-aged owner and the teenage girl working at the restaurant argued about it for a while, both blaming each other for screwing it up. For some reason, my voicemail wasn’t received, and they had to start the Pad Thai chicken from scratch.

I stood there waiting and the girl, I figured around seventeen, asked me how my day was going. She’s probably just trying to smooth things over. I’m past sixty, ancient for her. Why would she have the remotest interest in how my day was going? But I had time to kill.

“It’s a great sunny day out there. I just went for a long walk along the waterfront. How about your day?” I said, noticing for the first time her tight t-shirt, short skirt, and mid length curly blonde hair.

“I almost bought a Beetle convertible this morning. It was a 2006, in pretty decent condition and at a fair price,” she blurted out. “But someone scooped it just before I was going to put an offer on it,” she said with a pouty face.

“That’s too bad,” I said, attempting a consoling tone. “I had a Beetle, years ago and I loved that car. It didn’t have much power. In a strong head wind, I couldn’t get over forty miles an hour in it!”

“What’s that in kilometres?” she said, and I instantly realized that I was exposing our huge age difference.

“That’s about sixty kilometres per hour.”

We then had a discussion about how long Canada had been on the metric system, converting over to it in the mid seventies, and how some people, especially the older had never completely adopted it.

While talking to her, I was getting quite horny, both from her friendly, seemingly genuine interest in what I was saying, and the fact that she had moved quite close to me, almost touching, She looked up at me with her beautiful blue eyes as I blathered away.

There was a call from the kitchen. “Order up!”

She scurried away and came back carrying a brown bag.

“Here’s your order, Greg. Sorry you had to wait so long for it,” she said in a soft and sexy voice. “My name is Jess, by the way.”

It turned me on when she used my name. She could have just handed it to me.

“I hope you get to buy a Beetle some day,” I said to her, as I slowly walked towards the exit door. My inner voice was screaming, “God, I would love to strip your clothes off, and fuck you on the nearest table!”

I was on my way to my car when I heard her calling from the doorway.

“Greg, I have a favour to ask you.”

I walked back towards her.

“I’m off in five minutes, and because I didn’t get the car today, I have no way to get home. I live way out in the country, and there isn’t any bus service. Could I trouble you for a ride home?”

“Sure, I can do that. I’ll wait here for you.”

I live alone so nobody was expecting me. I had a feeling that this could turn out to be a very interesting evening. But maybe I was reading her wrong. It was a long five minutes while numerous thoughts coursed through my brain.

She came running out, her young boobs bouncing up and down. Sheheaded over to the passenger door, opened it and jumped in.

“Wow, I love your car, Greg. I am so into convertibles! What kind of car is it?”

“It’s a ‘68 Triumph TR-6. I’ve had it for many years. I only have it on the road during the summer.”

Her short skirt rode up, exposing her shapely long legs as she settled into her seat and clasped the safety belt around herself.

“I love your shifter knob,” she said grabbing onto it, and caressing it in a very suggestive way.

She gave me directions to her place, and we headed out onto the highway. She selected a hip-hop channel on my Sirius radio, and cranked it loud. She had this big smile on her face, the wind blowing through her hair, as we sped along through traffic.

We took an exit that lead us to a winding, rather narrow road meandering through farmlands. I told her to hang on as we careened around corners. The TR-6 is great at handling them, but one was rather sharp and it threw her towards me. She shrieked and grabbed my thigh. As we straightened out, she didn’t take her hand away.

“You’re pretty muscular for an old guy,” she said, running her hands up and down my leg. “How old are you ... around seventy?”

“I’m sixty-one. I work out at the gym a lot and run three times a week.”

She looked over at my lap.

“Wow, that’s a nice bulge you have in your shorts! Am I turning you on? I didn’t know old dudes could get so hard.”

She raised her hand and placed it on my expanding tent.

“This is something I have to see.”

She reached over, took hold of my zipper, and pulled it down. I was having trouble concentrating on the road, as she tugged down my jockeys. My full erection popped into view.

“Oh my god Greg, that’s some cock you’ve got there!” She grabbed hold of it, ran her fingers down to the base and then back to the tip. She had this wide-eyed look on her face, her lips slightly parted, breathing heavily as she continued to stroke it. “You have a great cock. It ‘s bigger than my old boyfriend’s, and I love the way it throbs. I would love to suck it but I had a bad experience in a car doing that. We almost crashed into a semi!

“Would you like to see my tits? I know you were staring at them at the restaurant.” She didn’t wait for an answer. She took hold of her t-shirt, pulled it over her head, unhooked the front clasp, and took off her bra. She tossed her clothes onto the floor.

“That feels so fucking good!” she yelled, as her perky teen breasts sprung into view. “I hate wearing a bra. Can you drive with one hand?”

“I think so,” I said, wondering what she had in mind.

“Cool, touch them,” she ordered.

She leaned over to make it easier for me. I took my right hand off the wheel, reached over and ran my fingers over her left and then the right one, as I tried hard to focus on the road ahead.

“Pinch my nipples. I love that.”

I almost lost it on a corner as I was tweaking them and she began to moan.

“I think I should concentrate on where we’re going!” I said, reluctantly removing my hand.

“Turn right at the next road. We’re almost there.”

She put her t-shirt back on, leaving the bra on the floor.