Divorce and Hair Colouring

I’m sixty-one and I’ve just had my first kinky sex with a man I only met this morning.

Copyright The Author

Erotic humour and just a little bit kinky

Kate looked out of the window; seagulls were dancing in the wind above the sand and the white capped waves were rolling onto the beach beyond the dunes. The clatter of the drinks trolley in the hallway outside her room heralded Sue’s appearance. Rolling in like an overweight bowling ball on two stumpy legs she leant forward and speaking loudly and slowly said, “Tea or coffee dear?”

Kate always felt like shouting, I’m eighty-two and it’s my legs that don’t work, not my brain or ears, and it’s fucking coffee, it’s been fucking coffee every morning for the last three years.

Sue rolled out to be replaced by Sandra in a smart blue uniform.

“How are you today?” she asked as she handed Kate a little paper cup containing an assortment of pink and blue pills.

Kate didn’t answer as she downed them like a shot of Tequila. She gazed out of the window again: a couple were walking arm in arm along the beach, leaning into the cold wind as it blew off the North Sea and she remembered walking along soft sands beside the warm Atlantic with Michael.

She’d fled to Tenerife after her divorce as, thanks to a good lawyer, she had sole ownership of the apartment. Her trip was mainly to escape the sympathy of her friends; half of whom seemed to think that being a sixty-year-old divorcee meant you were on the scrap heap and should just take up knitting as you faded away.

The other half suggested that she ‘have some fun’ which, in their minds, seemed to mean gratefully shagging any man with a pulse. None of them seemed to appreciate that, after nearly forty years of running around after her ex, ironing his shirts, keeping house and generally wiping his arse, as well as holding down a full-time job in the bank, she was suddenly in a position to do just what she wanted.

The apartment was filthy after being shut up for nearly a year and she was banging around cleaning it when she glanced out of the window to see an archetypal tall dark handsome stranger, smartly dressed in a cool white shirt and Chinos, strolling across the courtyard below. Hmm… nice, she thought and then scolded herself. Don’t be stupid, anyway, all men are bastards, all men run off with younger women, not older ones and all men are . . . What was the third? She couldn’t remember; God she must be getting old.

Chores completed Kate sat in the cool of the apartment with a freshly made cafetiere of coffee next to her. Just as she raised the cup to her lips there was a knock at the door. She sighed and put the coffee cup carefully back on its matching saucer. She opened the door to find ‘tall dark and handsome’ on her doorstep.

“Hello,” he said, “I’m Michael. I own the apartment next door.”

Close up Kate decided yes, he was definitely good looking. Probably in his mid-forties with dark wavy hair that was almost a little too long and one of those smiles that made women of a certain age go weak at the knees. Unfortunately, she concluded, she was of that certain age.

“Hello.”

“I know it’s a bit cheeky, but I’ve just arrived, there’s nothing in the apartment and I smelt your coffee. I wondered if I could borrow some? Just until the shops open up later.”

Kate put her hand to her mouth trying to conceal a snigger. She felt her shoulders twitch as she tried to contain her laughter but then it just burst out of her and she clutched at the door as she giggled.

Michael looked puzzled and then his face changed as he realised. “Oh God, I sound like that awful coffee ad from the eighties don’t I?”

“Afraid so,” Kate giggled trying to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes. “Sorry . . . come in. I’ve just made a fresh pot if you’d like some?”

She fetched a cup from the kitchen, the china clinking as she put it down on the table still sniggering.

Michael flopped down in the chair opposite. “I feel such a prat.”

“Don’t worry,” Kate took a deep breath and finally stopped giggling. “That’s the best laugh I’ve had since my divorce. Thank you.”

She looked at him; he was still slim and there was no sign of a middle-aged paunch. He sat in the chair with an easy-going confidence and his dark brown eyes fixed on her. Suddenly she wished she’d changed out of her scruffy jeans and T-shirt before she put the coffee on. “It’s a good job you remembered the ad otherwise you’d have thought there was a mad woman living next door.”

* * * *

“Coffee,” Sue said plonking a cup of brown liquid on the table next to Kate.

“Thank you,” Kate murmured absently.

* * * *

They’d sat and talked, she couldn’t remember about what, until the coffee was cold and then he’d asked her out to dinner. She’d accepted and then spent the afternoon ploughing through her wardrobe trying to find something that looked sexy but hid the wrinkles. In the end, she’d gone for black, strappy and finishing just above the knee which she hoped looked sophisticated and sexy without being ‘mutton’.

She had stood in front of the mirror thinking, well at least I’m slim, divorce does that for you and that there was no grey in her dark, shoulder length, bobbed hair; hair colouring does that for you she’d thought to herself.

Michael had called for her in the evening and they strolled down through the town to one of the harbour side restaurants and dined on . . . She couldn’t remember what. Fish most probably . . . she’d always loved fish and then they’d walked back, arm in arm in the warm night air, until they arrived back outside the apartment.

“Um,” Kate murmured, “I haven’t done this for years.”

Michael grinned; he seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. “You could always invite me in for coffee.”

“Oh shut up,” she said as she kissed him.

They fell through the door of her apartment scrabbling at each other’s clothes like a pair of teenagers.

By the time they reached the bedroom Kate was wearing just her knickers and Michael his shorts which Kate unceremoniously yanked down as she pushed him onto the bed.

“I love a woman who takes charge,” he grinned.

“So, you like to be dominated,” she purred. “Perhaps I should spank you like a naughty boy?”

For a moment she thought there was someone else in the room; she heard the words but couldn’t quite believe she’d just said them.

There was no answer but his grin got bigger.

She straddled his waist and leant forward to hold his hands above his head, her nipples dangling inches from his mouth. “Hmm ….” she murmured, “what can we ..? Ah … stay,” she barked hopping off him.

Grabbing the belt from her silk robe she straddled him again and inexpertly tied his wrists together and then looped the belt around the crossbar of the bed head and made another knot.

Kate sat back and admired her handiwork. Not bad for a first timer she thought. She could feel Michael’s erection between her buttocks so he was obviously finding this stimulating. She wriggled her bum against his hard-on.

“Oh shit,” he muttered.

Kate leant forward until her nipples brushed his lips. He flicked out his tongue and she moved gently back and forth making him lick and suck each breast and in turn. As she felt her nipples swell and tingle with arousal she had to admit it was an interesting sensation; being kissed exactly where and when she wanted to be without hands pawing at her.

She slid gracefully off the bed, slipped off her knickers and walked around the room provocatively dangling them from one finger; silently flattered by the way his eyes followed her. Stopping at her dresser she picked up her hairbrush. She had an idea and whacked the back of the brush against the palm of her hand.

“Turnover,” she commanded.

Michael wriggled against the bindings and managed to roll over.

Hmm, not a bad bum Kate thought. She whacked the brush delicately against one of his cheeks.

“Ouch,” Michael squeaked.

“Oh don’t be a wimp,” Kate laughed. “That didn’t hurt.”

She brought the brush down on his other buttock with a bit more force.

“Yeow.”

A red imprint in the shape of the brush appeared on his backside.

“Oops, sorry,” Kate said, giggling.

His reply surprised her.

‘No don’t stop.’

She whacked the brush down several more times on the cheeks of his behind and watched, fascinated, as they turned red. Michael wriggled and squirmed, unable to escape. She had to admit that she was rather enjoying herself. She found herself fascinated by his reaction each time the brush fell. She could make him roll this way and then that way; having an attractive man, fifteen years her junior completely under her control really was exhilarating.

Finally, Kate decided he’d had enough. “Turnover.” she barked.

Michael wriggled over and lay on his back on the bed his cock sticking up like an inviting totem pole. She climbed back astride him so that its head just touched the lips of her sex. She lowered herself just a little and flexed her hips back and forth so that just the tip of his erection ran up and down between her lips.

Michael groaned.

As it touched her clitoris and she moved her hips in a gentle circular motion. Kate felt her excitement starting to build as Michael wriggled and moaned in frustration. He pushed his hips off the bed trying to slide into her.

“Patience,” she said, more to herself than him.

Disobediently Michael thrust his hips upward and she gave in, slipping down his shaft and letting her fingernails bite into his chest.

“Aagh.” Michael spluttered.

Kate wasn’t sure whether it was from pain or pleasure. She rode him slowly at first mimicking the movements of a rider on a trotting horse, then up to a canter and finally a gallop. Michael writhed on the bed, the silk belt cutting into his wrists as he pulled against it and Kate neared the finishing post; slamming herself up and down his cock.

“Oh fuck . . . oh fuck, oh fuck,” she heard herself shouting as her pussy gripped his cock in spasm after spasm and she flopped forward onto his chest contentedly exhausted.

Eventually, she relinquished her hold and rolled over to lie beside him on the bed.

“I’m sixty-one and I’ve just had my first kinky sex with a man I only met this morning,” she announced.

“I thought you said you were sixty,” Michael paused and she felt him smile. “And it depends on your definition of kinky”.

Kate rolled over and rested her chin on his chest and tried to look stern. “Are you being cheeky? I might have to spank you again if you are.”

“Better buy a paddle,” Michael grinned.

* * * *

“We never did get a paddle,” said Kate.

“Pardon,” Sandra looked confused as she stood taking Kate’s pulse. “What did you want a paddle for?”

“We used a table tennis bat . . . wore out one a month.”

“That’s a lot of table tennis.”

“Until I got a cane.”

“Aah,” Sandra smiled.

“To me the swinging sixties was my age not an era,” Kate looked up and grinned at Sandra. “My seventies weren’t bad either, but I’ve slowed up a bit in my eighties.” She paused, “Michael would love me in that nurses’ uniform. I don’t suppose you’ve got one I could borrow for his next visit?”

“Behave,” Sandra giggled.

“Don’t see why I should start now,” Kate laughed.

Footnote: The Gold Blend couple was a British television advertising campaign for Nescafé Gold Blend instant coffee. The original campaign ran for twelve 45-second installments between 1987 and 1993 and can still be viewed on YouTube.

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