Charlene is one of those girls that got better looking with age. When I met her in college she was a bit on the chubby side, but she was cute and had the best disposition of anyone I had ever met.
She was always happy, liked to party and portrayed a quiet confidence that everything would work out for the best regardless of what we did. Her father was a doctor and she never wanted for money which added to her confidence.
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I was driven to succeed and, while we are not rich, we have lived very comfortably. Charlene has not had to work outside the home. Charlene has a great figure which has been enhanced with a little plastic surgery. She has always been a sun worshiper and maintains her tan year round.
Charlene and I have had a good sex life. We both enjoy sex and Charlene never refuses my overtures nor do I refuse hers. With few exceptions, neither of us have strayed. Several years after it happened, Charlene admitted that when she returned to her home town for her tenth high school reunion she blew five guys in the locker room. She had attended the reunion by herself and was looking great. She got a lot of compliments and one thing led to another.
She was quite proud of her oral prowess which she developed in college. She told me that she had handpicked a guy with which to lose her virginity during her freshman year in college. The guy was rumored to be very well endowed and he did not disappoint her.
The guy was kind of a rounder from the sounds of it and she was fascinated with him for a few months.
After he taught her the finer points of college fucking, he tried to convince her to advance to blow jobs. Charlene refused to do it for a long time. However, she agreed to accompany he and several of his friends on a road trip to attend a rock concert.
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They smoked a lot of pot and it was the time of free love. At any rate, she told me that by the time they got back to campus she was an expert at giving head. I can attest to that. Recently, Charlene has been considering a tattoo. She vacillated about whether to do it or not. Her girlfriends were afraid of disease, but Charlene has always been the adventuresome one and finally made up her mind that she was going to get one. She checked out a few of the local tattoo parlors and decided that she was going to get it on her butt cheek.
She would not tell me what design she had decided on, but she told me that she did not want any of the local tattoo artists doing it because she heard that you had to let them take a photo after they were finished and she was afraid someone she knew would see it.
She was planning a shopping trip to a major city about three hours from our home and she decided she would check out their parlors. Charlene left on a Friday for her shopping trip.
She went alone which was not unusual. She said she hated shopping with her friends because they did not have the same taste as she did, but she always gave in and did what they wanted to do. When she was serious about shopping she always went alone. Friday night she called me. She sounded excited over the phone. She told me that she had found the best tattoo parlor and the best design. She was going to get it the next day and head home.
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Saturday night, Charlene returned. She could not wait to show me her tattoo. She dropped her shorts revealing a red devil with yellow horns and forked staff. Beneath the devil were three black stars which seemed somewhat out of place. Her skin was a little puffy and red from the effects of the needle, but the artistry of the tattoo was impeccable. It was obvious that she had chosen the artist well. I asked her about the three stars and, to my complete surprise, she broke into tears.
I thought maybe she was remorseful about choosing to be tattooed, since it was permanent and I knew some people immediately regretted having gone under the needle. Charlene, however, was regretting something else more sinister.
I poured her a drink and gradually the story came out. She described the tattoo artist as one of those big burly guys with a great gift of bullshit.
They hit it off immediately and he helped her choose the tattoo design. What she had not anticipated is that when she showed up on Saturday to get the tattoo he told her that she would have to remove her panties if she wanted it on her butt cheek. She protested but he convinced her that her panties would get in the way and could contribute to causing an infection. That, of course, was a lie but Charlene explained that the excitement of getting the tattoo and the embarrassment of having to choose between getting naked or leaving caused a momentary loss of judgment.
She had chosen not to wear a thong because she thought that it was too revealing. She told me that besides thongs, her only back up was a sheer pair of white string bikinis which covered her crotch better than the thongs and that is why she chose that pair to wear to the tattoo parlor. Charlene was clean shaven with only a strip of black pubic hair above her snatch. How she wished she had chosen the thong when confronted with the choice of removing her panties or forgoing the tattoo.
She never imagined she would have to show her bare snatch to the tattoo artist. She said his eyes about popped out when she removed her panties revealing her well tanned snatch. Charlene laid on the table face down with only a T-shirt on to cover herself.
The tattoo artist excused himself for a moment and when he returned, he was not alone. Charlene tried to cover up. She demanded an explanation about who the two additional guys were and why they were in the room. Share this article Share Henning Wiechers, who conducted the recent survey on behalf of Metaflake, the vast German online dating agency, claimed that when people are too old to go clubbing, they need to access a second marriage market — and that the internet provides the perfect forum.
After my partner died, I thought to myself: According to a new survey, the lucrative online dating industry is growing fastest in the plus age group I put up my profile and waited for the responses to pour in at the same time as combing the sites — from the ubquitous eHarmony to overfifties.
Disappointment soon set in. In most cases, the photos were an instant turn-off, as they all seemed to be bald and have white beards as well as inane grins and bad teeth. I soon learned this was online dating-speak for hugely overweight. None seemed to have any of the extra pounds that actually counted, namely money. Most had long lists of hobbies and although almost all pronounced themselves witty and with a good sense of humour, there was nothing remotely amusing about anything they said.
Yet they were very exacting in their requirements for a new partner; they all wanted somebody slim, elegant, solvent — and younger than themselves. A few sounded kinky — to be avoided at all costs.
But some might be better than they sounded, I thought, so, lowering my standards, I took the plunge and sent a few messages. Only two did I actually meet. One, a professor of architecture, sounded promising, and we met in a pub outside Oxford. It was hopeless from the start. At 63 he had a teenage son, plus he was paying maintenance for two other children from an earlier relationship.
We had nothing whatever in common, and I fled as soon as decently possible. But for the internet, we would never have come together, and he taught me another truth — that as well as enabling you to find your soulmate, the internet also gives you a chance to meet somebody who is the exact opposite of what you are seeking in a partner.
With the other one, I did what online daters are advised never to do, and met him at his home, thinking that he was unlikely to be a serial rapist. He said he was a writer, so that was clearly, for me at least, a major plus.