Page 97 of Grown-Up Second Chance

It would be terribly uncomfortable for a man to still be erect when I was long satisfied.

Ugh. This golden age living was for the birds, as my aunt used to say.

Vaguely, I recalled a story an older friend had told me about a new lover who used some kind of pump to help out in that department.

But there was something …

I pulled on my shorts, my mind still wrestling with the image of plastic tubes and a hand pump. Or did one use batteries?

Sex was a lot of work at our age.

It was when I was buttoning my blouse that I remembered the rest of the story.

Apparently, the poor man came to bed, only to have things fizzle out quickly. Back to the bathroom. Another attempt that met with failure. Then a third trip to the bathroom.

What had the poor woman done with herself while she was waiting?

The third attempt hadn’t been any better.

She called it a night, and they went to sleep.

Was that why Joe wanted to take it slow? To prepare me for the agony before the ecstasy?

Could I come out and ask him?

Right. I could just imagine how that conversation would go.

“Joe, do you have ED?”

“Why, Di, how kind of you to ask. Yes, in spite of keeping fit, life has been limp in that area. But it’s no big deal. I have my trusty pump.”

“Pump?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. Sex will be great. All I need is a little time, and I’ll be ready to romp!”

Just like me to finally hook up with my high school boyfriend only to find out it wasn’t going to be like high school at all.

~ ~ ~

I had to hand it to my sisters. They knew how to pull a party together, even amid a group of relative strangers. Somehow they’d gotten some extra tables, and one of the more long-term residents had wheeled over a good sized grill. I’d made a store run and stacks of paper plates, napkins, cutlery, and red Solo cups were arrayed at the beginning of what would be the sides table. Ice-filled coolers waited for bottles and cans.

A pitcher of G and T was sequestered in the RV for our use.

The grill owner, a tech mogul from Silicon Valley, and his wife, a friendly woman I’d met a few times while walking around the park, were the first to arrive. She’d brought a large green salad that just begged me to eat healthy.

After my mirror inspection, it might not be a bad idea.

Mason and Naomi arrived next with a large container of potato salad.

So much for diets.

Their dog, Edsel, was all energy, and quickly reintroduced himself to people.

Slowly people trickled in, all of us knowing each other on some level or another. A few had brought small gifts, gaily wrapped boxes, and a couple of bags that clearly contained wine.

Joe had made a lot of friends in a short amount of time.

Even in high school, he’d known practically everyone, able to easily move from one group to another, no matter how dissimilar they were.

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