She was so tired of players. “Playas.” They used to excite her. Now they left her as dry as the Sahara. It was always all about them and their egos. And their cocks. They looked good and they dressed well and they could dance. Often they were good in bed. But it all felt so artificial. Like a big game. And she’d had the big cocks. They could be interesting and sexually satisfying. But, their owners were almost always stupid and vain and almost incapable of conversations of more than a few syllables. Mannequins with cocks. Again and again she hid her intelligence. Stooped to their level. Pathetic. It had to stop. Somehow. Some way. She was 27 years old and utterly bored with the men she knew and had known. Someone must be out there who was different from all she had known. The type of man she had never before paid attention to. Who would actually appreciate being with her. Who would look at her as someone who is special, someone more than just another conquest. God, where was he?
Mark was a 50-year-old who had been widowed for 10 years after his wife died in an automobile accident one rainy night. He would never forget answering the door and being informed by the highway patrol officers. How dizzy and disoriented he felt. How it all seemed like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from no matter gow hard he tried. The blur of the funeral. Then diving full bore into his work. He had not touched a woman after Maria. For years he didn’t care to. Then he couldn’t overcome his feelings of awkwardness. So he remained alone. Was a woman out there for him?
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/pt9khk/little_love_story