I’d known John for many years, as did everyone in town. He was a high-ranking public official—regularly on the front page of our local newspaper—and someone I’d always been interested in interviewing. However, my lack of seniority at the Saugatuck Register meant any features on his work went to my friend Kevin, who wrote all the local political pieces. I’d tried to think of angles that would give me an in, but until recently, none had presented themselves. Still, I enjoyed seeing John regularly at public events. He was an eloquent speaker and very funny, his humor a tad edgy, taking you right there but never going too far. Add to that a melodious tenor voice and a killer smile that revealed a beautiful set of pearly whites offset by an expertly trimmed white beard and mustache. Then there was his smooth and radiant olive skin. John’s languid, gray-blue eyes were framed by rough-textured wrinkles, the same framing his ears and inviting mouth, with a few dimples thrown in for good measure. I was inexplicably drawn to John, both physically and intellectually, though he was 20 years my senior, not a young man, and from a much different generation. And until recently, John had a wife, a beautiful woman to whom he’d been married since his 20s.
Though in his mid-70s, John exuded the confidence and virility of a much younger man, a demeanor that no doubt contributed to his getting re-elected well beyond when most politicians might have called it a day. Add to that a multi-generational family farm just outside of town and numerous business ties to the community. John was solid in every way – a pillar of the community, a brilliant public servant, a man deeply admired by his constituents, and a man of means, who did not flaunt his assets. Not only was I drawn to his appearance, but also to his charisma and intelligence. I never imagined I’d be pining for a man in his 70s, but there I was.
It all started with a quick fact check for an article I’d been writing, a question only his office could answer. I’d sent the email on a Saturday morning, not expecting a reply until the following work week, yet within the hour, John himself had responded, pointing out the needed correction. At the bottom of his note was an invitation to join him for lunch. Instantly, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. Never in this world would I have imagined a man of his stature asking me out, yet in the back of my mind, I had fantasized about it. In fact, the moment I hit “send” on my inquiry, I had felt that familiar flutter in my stomach. Not sure why, as this was an all-business email — no flirting — but an image of having run into John at the grocery store popped into my head. I realized I’d always crushed on him a bit.
Now I questioned whether I should take him up on lunch – there was a large age gap; John was only 3 years younger than my father. And he was a public figure. I immediately called my sister and a friend for advice — both said “go for it,” and so I did, as I found myself incapable of resisting his invitation. The thought of getting that close to John, being on a date with him… I was over the moon. I quickly shot him a “yes,” underplaying my enthusiasm so as not to sound too eager, and we set a time for mid-week to meet for lunch.
I spent the next several days scrambling to freshen up my appearance and assembling attire appropriate for my date with this well-heeled man. When the day arrived, I was ready to go, though quite nervous. We were to meet at his office and then walk to a local restaurant, one that was a favorite of both of us, a synchronicity that did not go unnoticed.
Upon arriving at John’s office, I did my best to exude confidence as I checked in with the receptionist, not wanting to let on that this was anything more than a business appointment. After my name was announced over the intercom, John popped his head out the door and signaled for me to come in. He extended a soft, warm two-handed handshake that included a subtle caress. He then flashed that smile I’d seen whenever passing him on the street or watching him speak at a public forum. Electricity fluttered through my body as he reached past me to close his office door, his shoulder warmly brushing against mine, the door now putting a barrier between the two of us and his curious staff.
John gestured to the easy chairs in front of his desk, where we could sit across from one another. There he was, there I was – face to face. John’s knowing grin conveyed an understanding of the source of my crimson cheeks and fluster — both of which I am unaccustomed to as a writer, a role in which I am normally confident and never at a loss for words. But sitting here in front of John, I was completely out of my element, tongue-tied, and blurting out jibberish, things I regretted saying the minute they left my mouth. I had become embarrassingly effusive, yet shy, and when I finally stopped averting my gaze and looked into his eyes, I realized John was experiencing what I was feeling, though he was clearly more practiced at controlling his banter. The sexual tension – it was palpable. How could this be? We hardly knew one other.
After a few minutes of pleasantries, John stood up and suggested we head to lunch, then reached over to grab his corduroy jacket, which was draped over the back of my chair. As he did so, he was close enough to smell the soft musk of his underarms and the essence of his breath, which was sweet and fresh, like blackberries. I desperately wanted to drink it all in through that luscious plum pucker of his, which peeked out invitingly between beard and mustache.
And in this awkward attempt at a transition, our plan to go to lunch failed. I stood up to meet him, and in doing so, found myself just inches from his chest. Inexplicably, my hands defied me, grasping him where his ribcage met his waist, pulling him in. I could feel how firm his stomach was, and his response — several sharp intakes of breath. Then, his warm hands cupped my face, and he gently lowered his head to meet my lips. There amidst his thick white bristles were heavenly lips — soft, wet, open, and enveloping. Who knows how long we stood there, kissing and exploring each other’s bodies through our clothing, and caressing those bits of skin already exposed — in my case, legs, neck, and chest. John’s hands reached down below the hem of my skirt to pet my inner thighs, pulling up my skirt in the process, as his mouth explored my décolletage. We feasted on each other, as if we’d not eaten for days, and with eyes closed, were in another place altogether. Just outside the office door, it was business as usual.
Then John steered my body toward the wall, and with the full force of his torso, pressed me into the polished wood, an erection pulsing through his trousers and against my pubic bone. As he pushed firmly into my pelvis, he attempted to unbutton my blouse, his large hands clumsy and unaccustomed to the task. After failing miserably to release my breasts from their hiding, yet not wanting to rip the clothes I’d walked in with, he grabbed my ass instead, gently grinding into my pelvis as I took over my own disrobing. While busying myself with buttons, John planted thick and juicy kisses all over my neck and behind my ears, sucking in my earlobes along the way and biting my tender shoulders, sending shivers through my whole body. Thank god his office was soundproof. Moans erupted into “oh fuck,” and high-pitched yelps.
John’s rough beard and mustache grazed every part of my exposed skin, lighting it up like kindling on a bonfire; I could feel my temperature rising and my full body flush. I’m not sure I’d ever felt this way before– it was incredible. A deep, dark heat radiated from my entire person. I could only imagine how I must have looked at that moment. John seemed pleased, though surprised, at his effect on me; I was radiant, making cooing sounds I’d never uttered before, and I was blousy – a word the master orator himself used to describe my unhinged expression. He then threw wide his arms, an invitation for me to open up his dress shirt, something I’d been reticent to do, considering we were in the middle of the county offices and just inches from clerks, secretaries, and his constituents coming in for services. I did whatever he asked, however, as he was the man in charge of this office. After releasing the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt, I brought my blazing hands up to his thick and powerful neck, feeling his strength and virility– an amazing man for his age.
Beneath the office attire, I found John’s soft and furry tummy, his skin like velvet. Electricity surged through my hands, finding its way to my vulva, which was becoming engorged, my clit pulsating and swollen. I then gently released the button at the top of his pants and tugged his dress shirt up and out, undid the placket buttons on his cuffs, and then gingerly laid his shirt across the closest chair. Then up and over his head went his ribbed tank, freeing his whole torso for exploration. I wrapped my arms around him, opening the palms of my hands to explore every inch of his exposed skin, front and back, my mouth and tongue gently tweaking his nipples, my nose breathing in his scent. John had a warm, earthy smell that was especially rich under his arms and in his groin. Whatever he was lacking in tresses on top was supplanted by thick, soft fur everywhere else. It was warm and downy, and I could have stayed right there for hours. And his stomach – thankfully not a six-pack. John was lean, his body supple and sensual, an erotic garden.
As I luxuriated in these sensations, John was releasing my breasts from my bra, neatly laying it and my blouse off to the side on top of his dress shirt. Both of our nipples were responding to the sensation of soft, warm flesh with tightening — poking us for attention. John was quick to bow his head, cupping my breast in his hand and lifting it up to his lips. He gently sucked, then softly bit my nipple, increasing in intensity until I could barely remain standing. I enjoyed watching my breast being engulfed by his bearded mouth and feeling the bristly stubble against my areola. I knew I would never be able to look at him the same way again – the sight of that beard would trigger a wetness I could not control.
Then on to the other breast he went, while pinching the nipple he’d just bruised with his teeth. I could not have been more wet – practically orgasming though he’d not yet touched me down there. And against my inner thigh was the thick bulge below his belt and a softer package below that of what had to be the largest balls I’d ever felt. It was all I could do to keep from taking all of his junk into my hand – no, it would take both hands, one for his thick dick, the other hand barely able to cradle those massive balls. I could trace the shape of his thick dick head with my index finger through his pants. It was so wet it left a spot on the outside of his trousers. John was a god. And he was getting ready to fuck me. He was primed, and he’d primed me, as well. This man was dialed in.
Suddenly, the phone rang, and John’s secretary’s voice came across the speaker. The mayor was hoping to stop by at 3:00 p.m. Would he be available for a sitdown? “Sure,” he said, “I’ll be right out.” We both scrambled to redress, double-checking one another to make sure we’d not give away the show, both of us a tad OCD in this. I quickly brushed my hair and put it back up, threw my purse over my shoulder, then we returned to the world beyond his office door… as if. Though John was well practiced in putting on a professional face when needed, it would take an Academy Award performance on my part to act as though things were normal, especially when they were anything but. Off we went, through that heavy office door into the brightly lit lobby full of people, then off to lunch. Only one clerk shot us an inquisitive glance as we made our way to the front entrance. Clearly, she sensed the pheromones we were no doubt exuding.