Bryson’s Last Big Fling, a short story by KiwiDreamer. Date added: 2012-08-06. Times viewed: 1960.
- Please SEND FEEDBACK - Writers love hearing from you. You can view the Authors profile here
- Intro: Bryson's wife is closing down on sex. He figures a way to have a grand finale to sex and takes a much younger woman to France for three weeks of unconditional sex.
Perhaps it was possible to out-grow sex, Bryson Cabot thought, sipping an expensive whisky than reminded him of malt and tar with a pinch of honeyed hemp. Well he thought that reflective opinion would horrify the Scottish distiller but perhaps the distillery was now owned by Turk or Japanese investors.
Still it was preferable to bad whisky or ingesting an unexpected flow of pussy juice.
Bryson (64) has just from the TV room where his replacement wife (44) after he’d married a year after wearing out his first wife, or so she had claimed, had brushed his hand away and announced she didn’t have sex while watching TV and he should have remembered that.
The bitch had keenly given him the impression she was into sex 24/7 six years ago when he’d thought about courting her. Megan had been his daughter’s best friend until Tracy found out her dad was banging Megan. Now Tracy spoke to neither of them. Yeah well Tracy didn’t need his money since she’d married a jerk who was loaded through owning eleven hair-dressing salons and personally pushed his hair care products on TV. The fucking wanker wore a big gold earring.
Bryson grinned, thinking women were really funny. They wouldn’t spend a cent on having a man fuck them but they recklessly spent ridiculous amounts of money on personal care. He laughed thinking males were the exact opposite.
Well he was fed up with Megan and scratched his balls and thought about her negatives about sex:
- A ban on sex on the table was now in force with her belated declaration that tables were for eating.
- She no longer wanted to be lifted on to the breakfast bar because she could no longer tolerate heights.
- The coffee table was too low and dug into her thighs and hurt her back.
- She’d never been comfortable about being fingered in the car and she was now too old to be violated on the front seat (yes she had used the word violated; he preferred use of the word banged).
- The last time they were in Italy she refused to enter a cinema when he told her it was a seedy dive when they could have sex while watching the porno film or she might prefer to have sex with the couple of women sitting next to her or with a huge bearded Russian seaman of whatever. Obviously she’d lost her sense of adventure.
- She no longer wished to have her best female friend join them in sex (Jennifer had begun to dominate her).
- She insisted if he wished to continue having sex with her it must be in bed and on using side and only when she was on her back.
Understandably Bryson complied with most of her wishes because she was a good fuck and a few times when they came home drunk he’d managed to get her full cooperation to rip one off in the hallway as soon as he’d locked the door leading out to the garage. At least that kept his sense of adventure ticking over.
But after tonight, shock and horror, Megan had gone too far. She decreed from now on he must use a condom because she was tired of having to clean up when she was sexually fatigued.
After his second whisky, Bryson decided he’d embark on sex outside of marriage and he’d not talk to her about it and invite her chance to reform. Beside she’d never invited him to discuss her edicts about sex before announcing their implementation. She was entitled to set her conditions for sex and there was nothing to prevent him from finding a more accommodating woman. He was sixty-four and whatever way one looked at it, his days left for enjoying full-blown sex were on the downhill and sliding fast.
He decided he’d look for a 35-year old, no make that a thirty-year old, and not a slut and it didn’t matter if she were married. He only wanted to fuck her, not teach her morality and she’d only be on loan. He also concluded there was no rush and it would be best to do it away from home and away from Megan and he knew how to arrange that. He’d need Megan’s diary.
Bryson went to bed and Megan asked sleepily did he want sex.
He rolled on to her and she told him to get a condom.
He rolled off her and went to sleep thinking fuck the condom.
At breakfast Megan asked quietly, retaining her new-found dignity, “Are you fighting me about this condom thing?”
“Fighting no, passive resistance yes,” he said, munching toast spread thinly with horseradish sauce spiced with sweet basil.
“Then I suggest you think about life without sex.”
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll consider my options.”
That appeared to shake her. Not being a vindictive person he worried about that until he thought she would be worrying about whether her legal team would successfully have the prenuptial agreements overturned. That allowed him to relax.
Bryson was the fourth generation owner of a company that imported and distributed nationally an exclusive range of cosmetics and personal care products.
The company had been running for 164 years, with some of the senior executives with the appearance they’d had been around most of that time, and so as chairman Bryson’s role was to lead trade negotiations, consider reports, approve agreements to take about new product, attend functions where the company was involved in sponsorships and host VIPs who included suppliers and sticky beaks. Many of the imported products were reprocessed under licences and many were similarly under agreement repackaged under the Lady Ophelia trade-mark, the name Ophelia not being the founder’s wife, mistress of eldest daughter but taken by him from Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’.
Bryson made the 15-minute drive, plus or minus depending on traffic flows, to his home around 11:00 for the next three days, knowing his wife would be working her six-hour day and as senior researcher in the English Department at the local university.
On the third day Bryson struck it lucky, Megan had forgotten to take her diary to work. He sat sipping coffee and went through the entries until he found what he wanted and smiled.
Three of Megan’s closest friends had events arranged the following month over a span of three weeks. Sonja was to be installed as the incoming president of the Business and Professional Association at ‘a grand dinner’, Beverley’s husband Harold was launching his new racing yacht but the entry didn’t say where, and divorcee Dianne was taking her five closest friends, who included Megan, to Florence for three nights to celebrate her 45th birthday.
Bryson made careful notes and replaced the diary where he’d found it by the kitchen phone and returned to work, singing Opera badly as he played a Five Tenors in Pisa CD. He had the suspicion the tenors sounded pissed.
Back in his office Bryson sat back in his chair overlooking part of the city to Magellan Water Effects Park. He’d thought it best to take a woman to France to have unfettered sex rather than hunt for a suitable one or two in France. He scanned company records to find female employees in their thirties and then narrowed his selection to one. He’d studied her electronic file and she appeared to be a perfect candidate although she’d married at twenty-two and now twelve years later had a son aged ten but no problem, the kid was at boarding school!
The school was named and the heartless intending seducer of the kid’s mother checked the school events calendar during that three-week period he intended to be away and was relieved to find no important events involving parents were listed apart from the quarterly parents’ night at Sunday chapel and then supper
He asked his PA to book a table for two at White’s Restaurant for 1:30 tomorrow and his business guest would be Charles B. Green (who occupied one of the apartments on the same floor as Bryson and Megan).
“Note that Mr Green from Hong Kong supplies hair restorer products.”
“Do we want to get into that questionable market?”
“No Belinda but I have learned when anyone is persistent about a meeting that something like 40% of those meetings are productive, and that’s pretty high for business meetings. Most such meetings are guises to benefit from company-paid lunches.”
Bryson knew he was taking a risk lining up a female who worked in his company but the woman worked in marketing, not the legal department, and because of that she could be expected to perhaps be the type who was a bit of a risk-taker and have a benign outlook on life socially and prepared to work her guts out when there was need to take the bit between the teeth. He gave himself a bit over a 50 per cent chance of pulling it off.
He called her. There were some clicks indicating the call was being switched to her personal phone. She must be out of the office.
“Olivia Hastie.”
“Olivia this is Bryson Cabot making a confidential call. Are you alone?”
“Yes Mr Cabot. I’m two minutes away from our advertising agency. Please hold while I pull over.”
“Are you adventuresome?”
She laughed easily and said yes if she could afford it.
“Well talk about that tomorrow. I’ve booked a table for you and me at White’s tomorrow at 1:30. Can you make that time?”
“Yes and it sounds fascinating. I’ll keep everything confidential.”
“Thanks and bye,” Bryson said, palms feeling slightly sweaty and breathing a little heavier than usual he wondered if this was how it was like when he made calls for a date when he was a teenager.
* * *
Two hours later Olivia was having lunch by herself at the café before returning to the office. It was true she was fascinated by Bryson Cabot’s call. It couldn’t be a promotion or a switch in roles because the chairman wasn’t into staffing changes. He was mainly into bottom line monitoring and keeping an eye on the performance of senior executives and troubleshooting and doing some PR.
She couldn’t think what it could be and smiled and thought it couldn’t be sex because he was thirty years her senior, about five years older than her father. What could it be? He was too sharp to have mixed her up with someone else. And why her, she was assistant manager of marketing, not the manager?
* * *
Olivia wearing a smart brown suit with the skirt quite short and a pale yellow shirt arrived five minutes early and had a glass of tonic water in her hand when she saw him arrive… tall, and rather athletic-looking, surprising for a guy his age, but she knew he had a much younger wife. His long white hair looked almost like a mane, yes he was a lion, confident of his ability, defender of his pride and poised at the ready for whatever eventuated.
“Girl you’ve been reading too many hot romances,” she muttered and thought rather that kiss her, he’d just say hi and order a whisky, two-fingers over ice, no water.
Wrong.
Bryson came up to Olivia and keeping his hands at his side kissed her closest cheek and said, “Thanks for coming Olivia.”
God how long had it been since a man had surprised her?
“Order me a drink Olivia, let’s see how you go. I’ll drink whatever you order.”
Christ, what was this, an aptitude test. How the hell did she know what he liked to drink?
“Yes sir,” said the barmaid and he waved her on to his guest.
“A premium single malt, two fingers, no ice and no water,” Olivia said that then thought oh fuck, she’d forgotten the ice but more damage would be done if she ordered it as an after-thought.”
But astonishing she found he was impressed.
“Well done. Did you ask someone what I drank?”
“No that’s what my father drinks but he adds soda.”
“Bad move. Any additive will rob the taste-buds of some potential subtleties.”
“Oh I thought soda was okay.”
“Well adding bad water is worse and even good water is mostly treated. Do you drink whisky?”
“Only if I’m prepared to get drunk and then only if there are no known consequences if I’m taken home almost comatose.”
“Good girl. This drink will do me but you order what you’d like.”
“I’ll wait till I’m at the table thanks.”
Bryson, standing six-two, was easily seen when he raised his hand and their waitress came to them quickly.
* * *
Olivia was still trembling when she sat in her car after that delicious lunch that had left her in turmoil. God never in her life had she received such a mind-blowing proposal. Bryson had come straight out and said he wanted to say something and she could leave as soon as he said it should she find the proposal objectionable.
She heard herself laugh and say nothing shocked her and he said gravely he wanted her to go to France with him next month for three weeks to have sex with him and she could decide what parts of France to visit by car, canal boat or aircraft.
Olivia didn’t know what to say but she thought she could manage to speak although she felt rather choked up. So she said, “How much sex?”
He laughed and said lots but not non-stop because she must understand he was sixty-four.
“But why me?”
He’d said because of his age, he regarded this as being the right time to have his last big fling. He said there was no need to go into details at this point. All she had to decide was did she wish to go with him to France.
“But why select me rather than Gemma your marketing manager?”
“I chose you after carefully filtering and my delightful lunch guest, Gemma doesn’t have your youth or your great looks and your awesome breasts and legs. She doesn’t come close to matching you as being my perfect model for my companion on my last big fling.”
“You want my answer now?”
“That would be convenient.”
“Oh god. There are so many things to consider including things that could go wrong and…”
“Are you aware this would be adultery?”
She looked at him defiantly and said yes.
“Are you new to adultery?”
Olivia hesitated only slightly and bowing her head said no.
Bryson said excellent, those issues were out of the way.
He continued, “Do you remember me asking you on the phone yesterday were you adventuresome?”
“Oh I see, one misses out on adventure if he or she turns down opportunities.”
He smiled seductively and said softly “I knew from studying your file that you’d be bright.”
Olivia melted and said in awe, “Omigod, you have hand-picked me.”
Bryson smiled and said yes and his list had only her name on it.
She wrung her hands lightly and said, “Yes I’ll go with you and have lusty sex with you. But how will we work it?”
“It will be announced on the company website that my wife and I will be in France for three weeks visiting suppliers and looking for possible new suppliers. I suspect you’ll have an interest in being involved in making some such visits anyway. No mention will be made that at the last minute my wife couldn’t go due to other commitments. You’ll meet me in Paris a day after I leave instead of going direct to Grasse to study trends in French marketing of perfume. Sometime during our visit we will visit Grasse on the French Riviera but in the meantime leave preliminary arrangements to me. I’ll give you the password that will allow you to open encrypted emails I send to you.”
* * *
Bryson was waiting at the exit from the platform in the Gare du Nord for Olivia’s arrival on the Eurostar train from London and with him being over six-foot tall she saw him first and he heard the he call and then saw her face flushed in excitement.
They hugged and kissed and as if to avoid a few moments of awkwardness Olivia said, “Take me to the nearest female toilet if you’re in a rush to rip off our inaugural one.”
“Steady on,” he smiled. “I plan to break the ice in style.”
In the cab he explained she should not expect an American or English-style hotel, that they were booked into a family-style small French hotel that he’d used many times and it was ‘unbelievably French.’
“They refuse to speak English, the service is terrible, everything is clean and the food is out of this world. I noted on your website you are fluent in French. When were you last here in Paris?”
“I came last year to a marketing conference.”
“That’s good.”
It was 3:00 when they entered their room and she may have been disappointed at the utilitarian nature of the furniture and décor but she marvelled when Bryce said the bed had a feather mattress. It was July and he said, “Open the French doors and leave them open.”
Cross that he’d not said please, Olivia opened the doors and the sights and sounds and odours of France excited her and she yelled, “I can smell coffee and cooking and she rattled off some of the famous landmarks she could see.
“Oh this hotel is just so wonderful.”
There was a knock and Bryce called enter and a severely dressed woman came in and Bryce waved her on to Olivia.
The woman said in French, “Ma’am my name is Aimée and we are ready to serve what you English call afternoon tea. What is your instruction that will be our pleasure providing you are not too demanding?”
Olivia said delightedly (in French), “Bring it on, how lovely.”
Aimée clapped her hands and an old guy wheeled in a trolley loaded with champagne, chocolate croissants, macaroons, fruit tarts and what Bryson later told her were Petits Pâtés a la Sage or in English, little sage pies.
When alone Olivia asked, “Are we booked in her as a married couple?”
“Yes as Mr and Mrs Cabot and I said when registering we are on our honeymoon.”
She took her first sip and said it was lovely champagne.
“What I can’t understand is why in that announcement on our website with the CEO announcing I was being sent to France instead of say Belgium. Isn’t that taking unnecessary high risk?”
“That’s one way of looking at it. Another is for people at the office to think it’s possible I don’t even know how you are, that I didn’t arrange your visit to France, there is 30 years’ age difference and anyway I would be too smart to have a liaison with you knowing people could learn we were in France at the same time. Further if you phone your husband and he hears French being spoken in the background he won’t be surprised because he knows you are in France.”
“Omigod, how brilliantly devious you are. But your wife, what if she learns we are both in France at the same time?”
“She doesn’t have access to our internal website and if one of the wives mentioned it she would shrug and say, “So what. If they old fool thinks he can nail a young girl and be happy, then he’s welcome to try, that’s she’s probably only just learned that it has another use besides peeing?”
Olivia fell about laughing.
“Thanks for taking me so seriously,” Bryon smiled. “Perhaps you would like to begin stripping slowly for me, drinking and eating as you go, and then undress me.”
“Oh god, shouldn’t I just shower and come out nude?”
“That’s rather pedestrian don’t you think?”
She nodded, having to agree with him, and smiled warmly.
* * *
Bryson was poised to really enjoy this because if it went well, it would indicate their time in France was would be money well spent. But for him it wasn’t about money; it was about his desire to be in the arms of a woman who was affectionate to him and melded with him so that they combined to give it their all, not just in sex, but in life, in living while touring a wonderful country rich in scenery, colour… a country that really hummed in early summer before the hordes arrived.
Being summer, Olivia didn’t have much clothing to remove.
When the bra came off Bryson had to suck in breath. God he’d forgotten how alluring tits were on a young woman. His cock raced into erection as he saw the smoothness and the swelling of the skin rising to be surmounted by nipples.
He almost growled wolfishly.
Olivia slid her skirt down over a slight rounded rise of belly, she looking at Bryson a little worried and was relieved when she saw Bryson very circumspect lick his lips.
This was it.
She may have worried whether he’d prefer to see her pussy lips flat or swollen, closed or ajar with beads of moisture to indicate her depths were ready to receive all the semen and her lover could throw at her reproductive system but then again she must have seen how relaxed he was about this. Well he’d had more than forty-five years of females showing him their pussy. She closed her eyes and slid off her skirt and panties in one movement.
“Great cunt,” Bryson said.
He saw that Olivia was about to flare and said smoothly, “That was an accolade darling.”
“Oh.”
The potentially disruptive situation was diffused.
“That cunt is perhaps the sweetest I’ve ever seen,” he oozed, and Olivia looked elated was probably thinking no other guy she’d ever dallied with had dared call her vulva, and the tube that lay as its extension, a cunt and had got away with it.
“I reserve the term cunt for the crème la crème,” he said, eyes piercing her gaze.
Olivia she and said, “Oh I’m ever so pleased you like my pussy. Is it okay for me to say right now that you can have all of me?”
“Very okay,” Bryson said. “Now undress me and be careful because you undressed so erotically I have an erection.”
“May I suck it as soon as I undress you?”
“Please do.”
“Finger me as hard as you wish, either orifice, but please don’t fist me.”
“Understood,” Bryson said, his mind spinning and he had the feeling the head of his rock-hard rock was about to blast off and orbit the earth.
As they entered the restaurant later, Olivia, who’d showered and had a 45-minute nap, said to her adulterer, “I’ve never been fucked so comprehensively. God I wish I could take you home with me and keep you.”
* * *
Their time was up and they were returning home. In all his sex life Bryson had never had a woman he’d fucked who hadn’t complained about something, that is, until now. In his opinion, Olivia had proven to be the world’s most perfect lover.
It was unbelievable. A couple of times when he hadn’t shaved she hadn’t complained and she discreetly rubbed the sandpapered skin when she thought he wouldn’t be aware what she was going. She was so fucking perfect and that kept him on his best behaviour and he’d known she’d adored him being so charming with her without acting over the top.
He was at the train station with Olivia, who was leaving two days ahead of him in the hope of allaying any suspicion of people wondering about them being in France together.
“I’ll never forget me time with you,” Olivia said, weeping.
“I’m delighted to hear you say that,” Bryson said. “You delivered everything I hoped for. If you choose to stay with the company then take it for granted you’ll be our next marketing manager.”
At the final boarding call, Bryson handed Olivia an envelope and hugged her and that was it.
Later as the Eurostar thundered through the French countryside Olivia opened the envelope and read the note: ‘Bank this secretly or invest it low-risk to have on hand for a possible rainy day.’
She looked at the cheque and gasped, it was for £20,000.
* * *
Bryson had the first night back home alone. Megan arrived the next afternoon and appeared almost to be a different Megan. She kissed him and almost chocked him with her tongue deep sliding deep into his mouth.
Was this Megan?
“Darling I need a fuck, a big one and I wish to resume anal sex.”
Was this Megan?
She was really back into it, and almost left Bryson legless. He couldn’t believe this was Megan.
She explained in Italy the women had decided to have group sex.
“It was okay but nothing as exciting that any of us could remember teenage lesbian sex was like. We sat around talking about what our personal sex life was like and the girls appeared horrified at how restrictive your and my sex life had become and I was told off. The message was unless I loosened up I’d not slip into old age thinking I’d had a great sex life and that made me think.”
Bryson was hoping she wasn’t committing to have her girlfriends over to pull him into wild group sex.
“I apologize for being such a self-centred bitch Bryson. As from now all the rules I’ve devised relating to our sex life are rescinded although I’d prefer not having sex on the coffee table or on the compost heap in the garden but if the desire seizes you then I say just do it, and so be it. Marilyn has also suggested the type of car we should have that is quite comfortable for front seat sex.”
“Good for Marilyn,” he muttered and instead of being rebuked sharply his wife tittered.
“Marilyn says you stare at her bum and sneakily have patted it several times. It that true?”
“Yes.”
“Oh marvellous. She has an adorable pussy to lick. She’d prepared to join us for the occasional threesome. She says Kevin can stay home and watch his porno films.”
Bryson swallowed.
“Well?”
He cleared his throat and said to bring it on and thought it was likely that Olivia would be unable to keep away from him. She’d confided his husband’s dick was only 5½ inches.
“Yes bring it on Megan,” he said, and leaned over and squeezed her left tit, something he’d not done spontaneously for several years.
“Oh good, you’re ready to go again,” she said, moving closer. “I’ll help get you really hard.”
The 65-year old leered.
(((The End)))
Send feedback
- Use for below to send feedback to author - View the Authors profile here
- The following form will send feedback to the author about this short story, please enter your e-mail if you wish a reply (which is obviously at the authors own discretion)