A belated Valentine’s love story

This may be a bit late to the party but I want to share my Valentine’s Day experience with you.

It was a busy evening at my favorite watering hole. Perhaps because it was Valentine’s Day, maybe because the skiing has been good with all of the recent snow. I couldn’t help but notice that I was one of the only ones rolling solo that evening. That may have bothered me at one time but I’ve gotten quite used to my own company. Nursing a drink and uninspiredly munching french fries isn’t so bad once you’re used to it.

I scanned the room, the people watcher in me cannot be denied. I do have to admit that seeing all of the happy couples canoodling as they celebrated a Hallmark Holiday got to me a bit. I never understood the need to go to extravagant lengths to show your love for someone, isn’t love something you should express every day? Why do you need dinner reservations, overpriced flowers and credit card debt to prove it. I then reminded myself that every guy in this room who adhered to this forced ritual is going to get laid tonight. I won’t have that luxury despite how much alcohol I pour on my hand to get my date drunk.

Still, I passively observed the ritual as it played out before me, fondly remembering the days when I was still in the game.
Then I saw her. She was alone at her table, listlessly staring at the table and stirring a drink. I could tell, despite the fact that she was seated that she was tall. A heavy sweater couldn’t disguise an athletic build. Most men would be afraid of that but I’m not one of them. Fit is sexy.

Occasionally, she would glance around the room. I was careful to avert my eyes. Was she waiting for someone? Enough time passed that a date in the Men’s room seemed unfeasible. How is this lovely specimen alone? She turned and met my gaze.

Unable to turn away without looking as if I was busted, I managed a weak smile and turned to study the ice cubes in my glass. Despite my interest in her I wasn’t prepared to meet anyone tonight. After many years of a loveless marriage distinctly lacking contact other than self-imposed my confidence level was non-existent.

“Mind if I sit down?”
Surprised, I turned and there she was.
“By all means” I managed to reply.

“You were staring at me.”

“Guilty as charged.” I said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It happens when you’re alone in a place like this.”
“About that.” I asked. “Why are you alone on this hallowed Hallmark Holiday?”

She smiled mischievously. “I could ask you the same.”

I went for it. The humorous route. “I’m divorced, broke and living with my mother. Still want to sit here?”

She told me I was cute.

Small talk turned into conversation. She was indeed an ex-athlete. She had just gotten out of a long relationship but didn’t provide many details. I didn’t pry. I was just glad to have company. Several drinks were consumed and I began to relax a bit. She warmed up also and soon was stroking my wrist with her strong hands. Clearly, she was in the mood for some fun. I started to tense up, trying to remember the last time I had been with a woman and having a true crisis of confidence.

“Let’s get out of here. I live around the corner. The drinks are cheaper and we can just hang out.”

“Listen.” I said. “There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just blurt it out.”

She patiently stared at me, waiting for me to get it out.
“I haven’t been with someone in almost 10 years. Sex for me is like a dog chasing a car. If I caught it I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

She laughed. “Sweetie, you’ve already caught the car. No worries, I’ll be gentle.”

I paid the tab and we put on our coats and left. We got to the parking lot, she pointed out her car and told me to follow her.

She was right, she did live close. We went inside her neat apartment. She poured two scotches neat, turned and walked towards me as I was mentally choosing what seat to choose. Sofa for action, or single seat for plotting my next move. My palms were sweating. I didn’t need to decide, she decided for as she led me to the sofa. She gently pushed me into my seat and stood over me. She took off her sweater and revealed a sheer sleeveless top. Her shoulders were strong like I imagined. Things were getting hot.

“Scared?” She asked me.

“No.” I replied. “But I think my cock is scared stiff!”

She laughed haughtily. Then she proceeded to toss me around like a doll for what had to be an hour. She gladly called the shots and I gratefully let her. Fortunately I was able to think about baseball enough to make the encounter last.

After, we lay on the rug in front of the sofa. Our clothes were strewn about. I was panting, sweaty and satisfied beyond the measures attainable by modern technology. We didn’t speak. Conversation could have added nothing to the moment. We laid there for quite a while, her lying on her side with her head nestled under the crux of my arm. The only movement was her persistent caressing of my balls. It didn’t bother me, but it was unsettling how she was fixated.

Eventually I asked her why she was so intent on fondling my testes.

“Sorry,” she said as she exhaled whimsically.

“I miss mine.”

Did I get you? C’mon you can admit it!

For you, Steve. You told me to mix it up a bit.