Life has been pretty good to me. I’m close to sixty now and the children are all gone and have kids of their own and my wife and I have discovered the joys of being grand-parents. We’ve always taken good care of ourselves, but the years take a toll, even though we’re great believers in exercise and plastic surgery. As for sex we’ve always had what I considered a fulfilling sex life though there has been a steady decline in frequency over the years.
My wife is a decade younger than I am though people who meet us often don’t think there is any difference in age. Her hair is now dyed a dark brown, but she looks at home hosting parties and is active with several charities as a leader. A few months ago, we visited a longevity clinic and they adjusted all of our hormone levels. They prescribed healthy doses of every vitamin in the book and gave me a prescription for testosterone, so I started shooting myself up with the stuff once a week. My wife had her own regimen.
I’d just picked up two new propane tanks and had headed down the dock when I heard the Volkswagen. You know the sound, distinctive and always the same regardless of whether it is a bug or a van. Reaching the boat slip I turned in headed for the back of the houseboat ,with a glance over my shoulder at the VW van. It had just come to a stop, its passage revealed by the drifting dust cloud of powdered Utah sandstone. As my eyes focused, I saw a blonde step back from the driver’s door and push it shut. I registered a bare belly and green bikini bra and had just caught a glimpse of the passenger getting out when I stepped beyond the houseboat window and they were out of sight. I was already setting the tanks down and stepping back to the window before I had a chance to think why. My titty radar had gone off, I’d realized the passenger had been topless. One step back and I could see a t-shirt going over the brunette’s head; I was too late to confirm what I thought I’d seen. I watched them headed down the dock momentarily, then decided to finish the propane tanks before I distracted myself.
By the time I had the two tanks wrenched in place it was break time. Break time was anytime a good looking girl needed to be ogled. In this case, two good looking girls. Maybe I’d have to double my break time.
I guess this story all started a little more than a year ago. My husband bought an old car that he had found for sale on the internet. I thought he was pretty silly, spending that much money for a car that was almost forty years old and in such horrible shape. It was a 1969 Dodge Superbee. We drove out with a friend to look at it, and when I saw it I thought he had lost his mind for sure. It was in pieces. The guy who owned it had started to restore it, but apparently hadn’t gotten very far.
My husband, Dale, wanted it because his father had owned one when he was a kid and he had always wanted one. It had a lot of sentimental value for him.
Byron wondered why he even bothered!!! After eight months of faithfully working out three times a week, he still weighed only 135 pounds and had arms that resembled spaghetti!!! “Okay,” he said under his breath, “let’s see if we can do tonight!!!” Lying on his back, he hoisted the barbell into the air in an attempt to bench press ninety pounds, and almost instantly he realized that he was in trouble after he brought the bar down to his chest!!! Desperately he tried to heft the iron off of his body, but the more he struggled, the weaker he seemed to become!!! The first rule about bench pressing is to always use a spotter, and at that very moment Byron was discovering the wisdom of that particular idiom!!! He tried screaming for help, but the air had been forced from his lungs, leaving him in the very precarious position that he may suffocate in a room full of people!!! As unconsciousness began to overtake him, the bar miraculously was wrenched off chest and blessed air filled his burning lungs!!! Continue reading