The twenty people in front of me clapped after I finished the last song. This wasn’t how I pictured my career turning out at the age of forty. I thought I would be selling stadiums. Producing great songs wasn’t enough in this industry to make it big. Without connections, you could be the next Jimmy Hendrix and you’d never be mainstream without the media.
I almost signed a major deal with a big record label a few years back. The deal fell through when a key media executive found out that I was sleeping with his wife. I knew she was married, but I didn’t know who her husband was.
The record label rescinded their offer because the husband sent out a memo to all media outlets to inform them of my unofficial ban from getting airtime. Without advertising, the label’s income from me would be severely affected.
Bummer. But what could I do? I just had to keep trying and hope that my big breakthrough would come. How? I had no idea.
The money I earned from the few gigs I got in a month couldn’t even cover my rent. During the day, I had to drive a taxi to supplement my measly income from my music career.
The best part about playing the guitar was all the ass that I got. Ladies love a guy who can sing and play the guitar well. None of them stuck around after they found out I was broke, but I had numerous one-night stands.
I got a booking for Saturday at a club that had been around since the 80s. Most legendary bands started out playing at this club, and its reputation for great music and food kept it in business for decades.
The pay wasn’t bad. I would get a few hundred dollars. That was better than most of the venues where I played. The main difference with this club was that it had a dining area surrounding the dancefloor. Patrons could enjoy fine dining while listening to music from the 80s and 90s. Needless to say, the crowd was older than what I was used to.
I sang about eight songs, all classics. The crowd loved the performance, and a few of them came up to me to shake my hand and offer me a drink.
At the bar, a middle-aged woman named Janet approached me and congratulated me on my performance. She said that her friend was interested in meeting me. I thought it was a man, but she pointed at a very attractive woman in her fifties sitting in the VIP booth.
“Sure, I’ll meet her. I’m Phil, by the way,” I said.
Janet introduced me to Margaret, and then she excused herself. Margaret and I were alone in the booth, our legs mere centimetres away from brushing each other.
Her eyes glistened as she looked deep into my eyes and listened intently to my every word. On a few occasions, I was tempted to lower my eyes to her chest to look at her bulging tits, sticking out from her unbuttoned silk shirt.
Margaret was tanned and in great shape for her age. The wrinkles covering her face prompted me to believe that she was in her late fifties. Ugh, who cares? She was going to be a good bang for one night and that was it.
In the parking lot, Margaret told me that I should follow her. I saw her walk to a brand new Mercedes Benz and I immediately realised that I hadn’t asked her about her marital status. Her rich husband must’ve bought her the car. I couldn’t turn her down now because we had already agreed to go to her place.
Standing in front of her house, I looked up and counted the windows, trying to discern how many bedrooms the place had.
The master bedroom was bigger than my entire apartment. It even had a jacuzzi in the bathroom.
Margaret offered me a drink, but I declined because I was in a rush to stick it into her. I grabbed her waist, pulled her towards me and grinned as she looked at me. I crashed my lips into hers, my sloppy tongue twirling in her mouth as we swapped saliva.
I planted my face into her chest and motorboated her while squeezing her ass, which was unbelievably tight. She was definitely a gym junkie. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had a gym in her home.
She raised her chin and filled her fists with my hair as I continued to motorboat her. I ripped her shirt apart and gawked at her round, full, firm breasts supported by a lacey black bra. I unclipped her bra and pulled the straps off her shoulders, assisting it to drop to the floor.
I sucked her right tit while licking the nipple in a circular motion and squeezing the other tit. I knew she loved that because she reached for my dick and grabbed it over my pants. My lips groped her other nipple. I raised my eyes and saw Margaret smiling as she kept her eyes closed.
She continued to squeeze my dick. I was eager to find out how good her blowjobs were, so I pulled back and then unbuckled my belt.
She dropped to her knees and unzipped my pants and pulled them down. My dick sprung out of my jocks, and she smiled while stroking it. Her lips smooched my tip and then her mouth completely engulfed my dick as she bobbed back and forth.
Her technique of licking my tip while sliding her lips along my dick made me groan. For the first time in my life, I was on the verge of cumming from a blowjob. I didn’t think it was possible, but something about Margaret’s experience, her banging body and the wealth surrounding us made me hornier than I had ever been.
She stood up and then faced her back to me, rubbing her ass up on my boner. I squeezed her tits and dry-humped her. I couldn’t wait to stick my dick into her. There was no doubt in my mind that she was dripping from her pussy. I had some pre-cum going.
I unzipped her skirt, and she pulled it down. She faced me, biting her bottom lip and smiling. I pushed her onto the bed, and she screeched as she sprawled on it, opening her legs wide.
I grabbed her calves and pushed her legs down, her feet were close to her head. I stuck my dick in, and I was surprised that she was tight. But she was so damn wet. Oh, man. I thrust fast, and she frowned at me while moaning.
Her muscular calves contracted as I sped up the pounding. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut as I continued the aggressive pounding. I saw that she liked it hard and rough. I grabbed her hair and pulled it, raising her head off the bed. She opened her eyes and cunningly smiled at me.
“You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” I said.
She smiled briefly and then closed her eyes. I let go of her hair, and she lowered her head. I grabbed her throat and applied slight pressure. Margaret opened her mouth wide and screamed several consecutive times.
She was loving the hard ramming I gave her. That must’ve been one of my best performances. I think it’s because I was unbelievably horny. Margaret heightened my lust, and I wanted to unleash all of it on her.
A few minutes later, I felt sweat beads on my forehead. Margaret’s face had reddened. She kept her feet above her head when I grabbed her tits and squeezed them while continuing to exert aggression on her pussy. I drilled her fast and hard, and I knew that she would have an explosive orgasm if I continued to penetrate her at this pace.
Abruptly, I stopped. She panted loudly, and I took the opportunity to catch my breath. I had a lot more in the gas tank, and I planned to keep going until I was empty.
I lay on the bed next to her, and she shifted on top of me, her back facing me. I bent my knees and raised her bum slightly by grabbing her waist. She stuck my dick into her pussy, and I resumed. Her head rattled as I drilled her pussy. She looked like she was convulsing while shooting out guttural screams.
Her satisfaction motivated me to keep up the aggressive pace. I was giving it to her so hard that I didn’t have time to think about how tight my balls were or if I would shoot out enough cum to fill up a whiskey glass.
About ten minutes later, I slowed down. Margaret lowered her body onto mine and exhaled deep, heavy breaths. Her hair was moist, and her face was covered in sweat. I grabbed her jawline and turned her face towards mine before shoving my tongue into her mouth.
I wanted to carry on for hours, but I was uncertain of how much longer I could last before shooting a massive load. And if that happened, the best position for me to do it in was doggy style.
Standing in front of the bed, I grabbed Margaret’s waist and pulled her closer to me. She shifted her ass slightly back to the edge of the bed. She lowered her head to the bed and perked her ass up. I loved the way her cheeks opened up to reveal her sweet, pink pussy. It looked so damn hot.
I clutched her shoulders and proceeded to pound her from behind. I swung my hips fast and pulled her towards me so that she could feel every thrust. She squealed the entire time I gave it to her from behind. I must’ve lasted in that position for about twenty minutes before I felt a deluge of cum ready to shoot out of me.
As I came in her pussy, I twitched. My pecks contracted, and I grimaced. I held her waist as the cum continued to pour out of me. It felt like it was never going to stop. Little bits kept squirting out.
After the last bit squeezed out of me, I dropped my head and panted. Wow. That was unbelievable. I had never had better sex than that.
I thought I could go for another round, but I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
When I woke up in the morning, Margaret wasn’t in bed. I walked into the kitchen and saw her talking on the phone. She finished the call and asked me if I wanted breakfast.
I was hungry, but I was more eager to find out how her husband hadn’t caught us in bed together.
“I don’t have a husband. I’ve never been married. Probably because I spent most of my time running my business. Marriage slipped away from me throughout the years.”
“What kind of a business do you have?”
“An advertising agency. We do marketing for big corporations.”
“That, I believe,” I said, as I glanced around the huge house.
“Are you a full-time musician?”
“I wish. I’m more of a taxi driver than a musician because I spend more time doing that. And even that pays nothing.”
“I really enjoyed your performance last night. You’re very talented. Really, I’m not just saying that. I’m a bit perplexed as to how some big record company hasn’t scooped you up.”
I shrugged and pursed my lips. “I guess it’s one of the great mysteries of the world.”
The following day, my phone rang while I was grabbing a bite to eat. Margaret wanted to know if I’d like to join her for dinner—her treat. I was more than happy to eat at somebody else’s expense.
During dinner, I found her to be incredibly fascinating. We had the same taste in music and food. We also shared a love for travel. Well, she had visited most of the places that I wanted to see.
She told me that she was 56 years old and had never had children. The reason was that she felt it would’ve been unfair to the child because she didn’t have time to look after him or her. I felt that she would’ve been a great mother. She said that her contribution to children was donating money to orphanages around the world. I was really impressed by her.
After dinner, we went to her place, and I banged her brains out. It wasn’t just that the sex was great; I felt something more for her.
A few weeks of us regularly going out had passed when she suggested that we make our relationship official. I had never dated a woman older than me, nor had I ever made a relationship official. But I figured that Margaret wanted to know that I was serious about her.
We continued to have mind-blowing sex almost daily. I felt that we had a special connection, and she confirmed that when she asked me to move in with her.
I ditched my shoebox apartment and moved into a mansion where I didn’t have to pay for a thing. Margaret also introduced me to her marketing manager who helped me to promote my brand as an independent artist.
That helped me to secure several big gigs. I couldn’t believe how drastically my life had changed in a few short months, and I had Margaret to thank.
As I became more prominent in the music scene, hotter and hotter women began to hit on me after the gigs. I resisted most of them, but I couldn’t turn down Lizelle. She was unbelievably sexy. The combination of her youth, long legs and killer smile got me hard.
She joined me in the changing room after a show. One drink led to another, and she ended up on her hands and knees on the couch, with me behind her.
A few days after that night, Margaret and I celebrated her 57th birthday. After we toasted with the finest champagne that money could buy, which I paid for, Margaret said that she wanted my opinion on something important.
“How would you feel about getting married?”
At first, I thought she meant in general, but I realised that she wanted to know if I would marry her.
“I’m curious to know why you’d want to get married now.”
“Better late than ever. It would be nice to know that I’m going to have somebody with me when I get older. That big house sure can get lonely at times.”
For the next few days, I thought about her proposal. Never in my life did I think I would consider marrying a woman who was almost twenty years older than me. But Margaret was special. We shared an emotional and physical connection like I had not with any other woman. Not to mention that she drastically improved my personal and professional life.
A month later, we were married. We honeymooned in Paris. I can’t even remember the number of times I bonked her while there. When we returned to Los Angeles, we carried on with the sex romps.
I began performing again a few days after we returned. Margaret said that she would go out with her friends and then meet me at home after the gig.
After I got off the stage, I heard a knock on the door of my changing room. I didn’t want to let Lizelle in, but she said that she had something important to tell me.
“I’m pregnant.”
I froze. It felt like my heart, mind and entire body shut down. I couldn’t believe what I had heard. At first, I wanted to believe that it was a joke. Then, I thought that it wasn’t my child.
About two months had passed when Lizelle and I went to a clinic to do a prenatal DNA paternity test. The results came back positive.
Abortion was out of the question. I wasn’t a perfect human being, but I would rather die than be a baby murderer.
The only option was for Lizelle to have the baby and for me to confess it to Margaret and deal with the consequences. She was the last person I wanted to hurt. But she deserved to know.
For the next few days, I kept postponing the confession because I wanted to find the best way to break the news to her. There wasn’t one. I promised myself that I would tell her after she returned from her business trip.
I was prepared for her to kick me out of her house, file a divorce and backdate all the charges for marketing me before never doing business with me again. Instead, something far worse happened.
The airline Margaret travelled with called me to tell me that she hadn’t boarded the plane. I didn’t understand what happened to her.
A few hours later, the police showed up at the house.
“Mr Slater?” asked a policeman.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Are you Margaret Finch’s husband?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Sir, I’m sorry to tell you that your wife died in a car accident on the way to the airport. She and the taxi driver collided with a drunk driver. Sorry about your loss.”
I felt empty for the next few days. I didn’t know what to think. After Margaret’s funeral, I felt worse. She was right about loneliness pervading throughout the big house.
An estate attorney contacted me two weeks later. He told me that I would inherit the house, the cars and Margaret’s savings. Her will stated that her company should be sold and the proceeds donated to an organization that funds start-ups so that new entrepreneurs could get a chance to make their dreams come true.
She was a much better person than I was. Her gifts would help me to raise my child and to live for the rest of my life without worrying about money. But she wasn’t responsible for looking after me or my son. I was.
I sold everything I inherited from Margaret and included her savings as a donation in her name to several orphanages.
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