I doubted Mason and I would have ever gotten together if he hadn't beaten me at trivia night. Trivia nights at the bar were something I looked forward to since I'd retired early several years ago. I'd spent countless hours of my life reading and figured I should try to apply that knowledge somehow. At fifty-eight, I enjoyed competing against the younger, cockier players who showed up at the bar on Thursday nights.
Mason was indeed younger; I guessed he was almost thirty. But he wasn't cocky. I'd taken him on before and defeated him soundly. On this particular night, however, I was not at my best. Again and again, Mason proved to be more knowledgeable. The loss was a little humiliating, but Mason turned out to be a gracious winner, making his way over to me afterward. "Good game, June," he said. "You kept me on my toes."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right. We both know I sucked tonight, but I can promise you won't be so lucky next time."
Mason smiled. "I definitely won't rest on my laurels. How about I buy you a drink?"
I raised my eyebrows. Mason had always been friendly but not overly so. He came alone to the bar, just as I did. "A Bourbon and Ginger for me, thanks," I said. Mason ordered a Vodka Collins for himself. The bar counter was a little too crowded for my taste, so he and I headed to a small table. "Seriously, I'm impressed by how much you know," I told Mason as he sipped his drink. "I have decades on you, and some of those questions stumped me tonight."
Mason shrugged. "I guess that's what comes from being shy and awkward. When I was growing up and found it hard to make friends, books served as an escape, so I read all the time. Now, it turns out I prefer books to people," he said. "Well, most people."
I tilted my head, studying him. "You don't strike me as shy and awkward. Not tonight, at least."
"That's because I feel comfortable around you, June."
"You hardly know me," I pointed out.
Mason looked down at his drink, and I swore I saw him blushing a little. "I'm hoping to change that."
I tried to hide my surprise. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was flirting with me. Now that I was almost sixty, I wasn't often approached by men my own age. To young men like Mason, I was practically invisible. My long hair, while still thick, was mostly gray. I decided after my divorce a few years ago that I couldn't be bothered with dyeing it anymore. I also had plenty of the wrinkles and sags that came along with growing older. Since menopause, I had to be extra careful about what I ate, for I was no longer slender. Though I was comfortable with my looks as an older woman, I was also realistic. There would be no Botox or tummy tucks for me.
Tonight, I wore jeans and a T-shirt. Definitely not an outfit men would consider alluring. Mason was still dressed in business casual.
"So why is it you feel comfortable with me?" I asked him. I found I liked his smile. It was sweet, without a hint of arrogance. He wore his sandy blond hair in a neat cut. His build was lean but not muscular, and behind his glasses, his eyes were full of warmth.
"You're kind," he said. "I don't feel like you're going to brush me off if I approach you to say hello."
I gave him a puzzled look. "Of course I wouldn't."
"I know you wouldn't, but women my age? It's hard to get to know them in a way that's real. These days, with everybody online, and people quickly swiping left or right, first impressions aren't just important. They're everything." Mason let out a heavy sigh. "It takes just seconds for people to decide whether you're funny enough, or successful enough, or if you look good enough."
I couldn't help but grimace while also feeling relieved that I no longer had any interest in dating. "Sounds pretty bleak."
"It's brutal," Mason said. "And I don't have all that much going for me, anyway."
"That's nonsense!" Without thinking, I reached across the table and gave his hand a reassuring pat. "You're incredibly smart, and my impression of you while we've talked tonight is that you're a kind, likable person. You're a good-looking young man, too."
Mason's face brightened. "You think so?"
"Well, yes." I didn't want Mason to think I was hitting on him, so I sat back in my chair, putting more distance between us. He continued beaming while I took several sips of my drink.
"Soo..." he said, his smile growing playful, "Considering all that, would you be interested in spending time with me outside of this place?"
My eyes widened a little. He was flirting with me! Or trying to get laid, more likely. "How old are you, Mason?"
His smile only grew. "I'm twenty-eight, June."
"I'm thirty years older than you."
"So?" Mason leaned closer. "That shouldn't stop us from enjoying each other's company."
I tried not to roll my eyes, but it was difficult to hide my exasperation. "I'm not fucking you," I said.
His smile slipped a little, and I felt a twinge of guilt for using such a harsh tone. Yet he pressed on. As he spoke, his cheeks flushed. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
"No?" I drained my glass and set it before me. "What did you have in mind?"
Mason was obviously nervous, straightening his glasses and then tugging at his shirt collar. He quickly looked around before meeting my stare once again. "I want you to sit on my face," he said, his voice barely audible above the noise of the bar.
My mouth dropped open. At first, I couldn't believe he was serious, but when his eyes took on a pleading look, I realized he wasn't joking. I also realized my body had immediately responded to his words. Since my divorce, I hadn't even been on a date, much less fooled around with anyone. To say I was having a sexual dry spell would be a huge understatement. I masturbated often in an attempt to satisfy my urge, but it wasn't the same. Now, this much younger man was practically begging me to sit on his face. Beneath my shirt, my nipples hardened, and I felt a subtle but insistent ache between my thighs, almost painful in its need to be satisfied. There was no denying it: I was horny as hell. I was also attracted to Mason. Maybe a big part of it was because he understood from the start that I had the upper hand.
Before I could change my mind, I said, "Let's go to my place."
Mason blinked at me, appearing a bit stunned. He'd obviously been expecting a rejection. Then he grinned. "I'll follow you in my car."
It didn't take long for us to arrive at my house. While I unlocked the front door to let us inside, I kept worrying I'd made a mistake. If Mason and I discovered we weren't really attracted to each other, after all, trivia nights were going to be awkward as hell in the future. When we stepped into the living room, Mason looked around and said, "You have a lovely home, June."
"Thanks." After we set our stuff down on the table, I turned to Mason with a nervous smile. "I guess I should show you the bedroom next."
"Um, before we get started," he spoke in a rush, "I just want to say that while I love doing this, I'm not all that experienced. So I hope you'll tell me what you like and what you don't."
"Mason." I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'll be happy to tell you what feels good, but I don't want you to be anxious with me, okay?"
He cleared his throat, keeping his stare fixed on our hands clasped together. "I just don't want to disappoint you, June."
"You won't," I assured him. "Now come with me." I led him down the hall to my bedroom, where I turned on a single lamp. Mason took a deep breath, then let it out slowly before turning to me. His smile was more relaxed now, even eager. As he removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand, I nodded toward the half bath which adjoined the bedroom. "I need to go freshen up."
"Please don't," Mason said. Seeing my confused expression, he hurried on. "It's just that I, um, would prefer it if you don't wash away your natural scent."
Now that was unexpected. In the past, I'd always insisted on being as clean as possible before a partner went down on me. My former husband liked to tease me about my lack of spontaneity. But Mason was requesting I do the exact opposite of my normal routine. Looking down, I noticed the outline of his erection beneath his dress pants. We'd barely touched, and he was already hard for me. While I was pleased to see him so aroused, I wanted to avoid any uncomfortable surprises.
"Just so you know," I told him, folding my arms over my chest, "I actually have pubic hair, unlike a lot of women your age." I thought he might change his mind about me freshening up if he was aware of that.
Mason only grinned and said, "All the better."
While he unbuttoned his shirt, I remained still, trying to shake off my insecurities. He must have sensed my hesitation, for he lifted his head to meet my gaze. "Everything okay, June?" I started to tell him this probably wasn't a good idea, but he looked so hopeful then. And despite my reservations, I was still horny. So I simply nodded and began undressing as well.
Mason didn't ogle me while I took off my shirt and jeans, but I sneaked plenty of glances at him. He had a surprising amount of body hair, which I loved. His cock, fully erect, wasn't all that thick, but I guessed it was around six inches long. His balls were the perfect size for sucking, a nice mouthful. I noticed he neatly folded each item of clothing he removed, and I found the habit endearing.