Many years ago there was a tv skit that went something like this:
Two little old ladies are sitting on the porch on a lazy afternoon.
The old lady on the left suddenly says to her friend, "do you still get 'urges'?"
(For you young folk. "urges" is what we used to call getting horny.)
The old lady on the right says "yes, I still do."
"Oh," says the lady on the left. "What do you do about it?"
"Oh, I suck a life saver," says the lady on the right.
"Oh," says the lady on the left. She's quiet for a moment, and then she says
"who drives you to the beach?"
The other lady looks at her, very surpised.
Well, she couldn't have been suprised as I was When I found out what was going on next door!
I have known
Francine Luckett for nearly 40 years. We moved into this neighborhood as
young married wives, full of hope and promise and looking toward the future.
That was 1974, the war was over, the turmoil of the 60s was behind us, and it was time to
go back to living a normal life.
Although, I did feel maybe I'd missed out on the "free love" thing. I sometimes wondered if
the other neighborhood housewives felt the same.
Francine certainly did! But she's making up for it now!
Granted, I'd noticed she had a lot of young male visitors, but then she'd alway been
generously maternal.
And sometimes a young man who came over to do chores on a Saturday afternoon, didn't leave
till Monday morning, but I put it down to Francine and her warm, giving spirit helping someone
down on his luck!
Ha!
Then last year I finally really started paying attention. Sometimes I caught her leaning
a little too close to one of her young fellas in the fancy coffee shop. A few times I saw
her fondle one of them righ through their jeans out in the yard.
Then last summer I spotted her down in the bushes by the irrigation ditch. She was down on
her knees with her top open and her bra off, some young buck's cock in her mouth up to
his belly, and Francie sucking away like her favorite vacuum.
Well, I backed away slowly, found and spot near the start of the path and settled in to wait.
When Francie came out she was a mess. Her clothes were nothing but rags, her stockings
were a maze of runs, her make up was smeared and there were leaves in her hair. She
grinned and staggered like a drunk.
Drunk on sex, was what it was.
I stepped out of the shadows and stood in front of her. She jumped about a foot then smiled
at me.
"Francie," I said. "What were you doing down there?"
Well she told me. All of it!
I was never more surprised in my life! Or more hurt! Here I had been struggling with my own
frustrations and fantasies for years and my best friend had never once let me in on her
little game.
Well, that soon changed. She laughed when I told her and said she was thrilled to know
we were so alike.
"You should have told me, Lucy," said she. "I'd have let you into the game long ago."
No matter. We made up for lost time in a hurry.
After two months worth of dirty weekends together I was happier than ever. But something
still troubled me....
"Francie," I asked her the one day. "These weekends are great, but what do you do during
the week when the boys are all at work?"
"Well," she said, "That's what I have
Niteflirt for."
"What's
Niteflirt?"
She smiled. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee, Lucy... We need to have a looonnnggg talk."
And we went off down the street to that fancy coffee place, arm in arm, giddy as a
pair of school girls.
