Finding John, part 1

First encounter

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 a neatly trimmed white beard and mustache. Then there was his smooth-shaven head and radiant olive skin. John’s languid, gray-blue eyes were set amidst 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 70’s, 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 multi-generational family and 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, something only his office could answer to. I shot off an email on a Saturday morning, and within the hour, John himself had responded, pointing out the needed correction. At the bottom of his note: an invitation to join him for lunch. My cheeks burned with excitement. Though I never in this world imagined a man of his stature would ask me out, in the back of my mind, I had fantasized about it when I’d shot that email off to his office. Now I questioned whether I should take him up on it – this was a large age gap; he was only 3 years younger than my father and a public figure. It took less than an hour to realize I could not resist his invitation. The thought of getting that close to him, and to be on a date, with him… I was over the moon, this, though I hardly knew the man. And he didn’t know me, either, or so I thought. I shot him a “yes,” underplaying my enthusiasm to keep from sounding too eager, and we set a time for mid-week to meet for lunch.

After several days of scrambling to freshen up my appearance and assemble attire appropriate for a lunch date with this well-heeled man, I was ready to go, though quite nervous. We were to meet at his office and then walk to a local restaurant that was a favorite of both of ours, a synchronicity that did not go unnoticed.

Upon arriving at John’s office, though incredibly nervous, I did my best to confidently check in with the receptionist, trying not to let on this was anything more than a business appointment. When my name was announced over the intercom, John popped his head out of his office and signaled for me to come in. He extended a soft, warm hand – a quasi handshake, that I could have sworn included a gentle caress. And then he flashed that smile I’d seen when passing him on the street or at a public affair or when I’d pulled up the news to find him in yet another headline. Electricity fluttered through my body as he reached past me, his shoulder warmly brushing against mine, as he confidently closed his office door, putting a barrier between us and his curious staff. John gestured to the easy chairs in front of his desk, where we then sat across from one another. There he was, there I was – we were 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, where I have always felt confident and never at a loss for words. But in this interaction, I was completely out of my element, tongue-tied, and blurting out jibberish, things I regretted saying the minute they left my mouth… explaining how flattered I was to be going on a date with him, as he was someone I’d always admired, etc. I was embarrassingly effusive, and when I finally looked up and into his eyes, I realized he, too, was experiencing similar feelings, though he was clearly more practiced at controlling his banter. The sexual tension – it was immediate and palpable. How could this be? We didn’t even know each other, really.

After just a few minutes of pleasantries, John stood up, grabbed his corduroy jacket, and suggested we head out for lunch, and as he did so, he stood close enough for me to take in the essence of his breath. It was sweet and fresh, like that of a young man. I just wanted to drink it in via his lovely plum pucker, which invitingly peeked out between beard and mustache.

And in this awkward attempt at a transition, our plan to go to lunch failed – I put my hands on his chest, and he took my face in his hands, pulled me in, and we kissed, love-starved, rendered helpless to stop. Who knows how long we stood there – the kisses were deep, wet, and soft, and they went on and on. His smooth teeth parted, and our tongues joined in, taking us deeper and deeper into one another, his mouth feasting on mine. With eyes closed, we were in another place altogether, though just outside the door, business as usual was being conducted.

Then John steered my body to his heavy office door, pinning my back to the door, though not without my full consent, which came about in the way of moaning and rapid breathing. He then pressed hard into me, proceeding to unbutton my blouse as he did so, his large hands clumsy and unaccustomed to the task. After failing miserably to release my breasts from their hiding and not wanting to rip the clothes I’d worn in, his hands grabbed my ass instead, gently grinding into my pelvis as I took over the unbuttoning. While I busied 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 out 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 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, nose, and cheeks cutting in on the action, my tongue gently tweaking his nipples. He smelled so good, a warm, earthy smell that was especially rich under his arms. Whatever he was lacking in tresses on top was supplanted by soft fur everywhere else. It was warm and downy, and I wanted to stay right there for hours. And his stomach – thankfully not a six-pack; he was lean, yet soft and sensual, a much more erotic place to bury my face.

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. Our nipples were now both enjoying the sensation of our respective soft, warm flesh, tightening up and poking at us for attention. He was quick to bow down his head, cupping my breast in his hand and lifting it up to his lips, where 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 gotten more wet – I was practically orgasming though he’d not yet touched me down there. And against my inner thigh I sensed the thick bulge below his belt and a softer package below that of what could only 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. And 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. “Oh god,” were the only words I could speak. Me, the atheist. And yes, John was a god. And he was getting ready to fuck me. And he’d gotten me well prepared. 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 or perhaps smelled, the pheromones we were no doubt exuding.