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My name is Boyd Lambert, I’m recently divorced. I wasn’t what you’d call a great catch: married at twenty; divorced at twenty-four.

That’s when I met Nanci Darden, who was nineteen. I was a high school teacher; she was a year out of high school. You’re probably raising your eyebrows about now, but think about it, if I was sixty-four and she was fifty-nine, you wouldn’t even blink. It’s still five years difference.

Anyhow, we met in a bar and she ended up going home with me. Of course, I tried to get in her pants but she was adamant. “Not tonight but let me do this.”

I’d had more than a few blowjobs and my ex-wife was very willing and very talented but there was nothing like the blowjob nineteen-year-old Nanci gave me that night. She wasn’t just a great cocksucker for her age; she was a great cocksucker for any age.

We started seeing other about twice a week. We didn’t have much in common. She worked at a fast food joint and I was working on my master’s degree in Quantum Physics.

What we did have in common was that Nanci liked to suck cock and I had a cock.

All we did was go to bed, and Nanci would blow me. Usually twice each night. We never went to a movie or to a concert or to dinner. Being a guy, I tried to get in her pants. I tried every time and every time, she’d push my hand away.

Oh, she’d take off her blouse and bra and I’d feel up her tits, but I never got in her pants. As great as that first blowjob was, Nanci got better.

I never committed to anything; in fact, on weekends, I’d go out and sometimes I got lucky, often with women my own age: teachers, former classmates, whomever. Some were great fucks; some gave good blowjobs. Good, but not as good as Nanci. I’d give her a call a couple of times a week and she was more than willing. “Boyd, I can ‘t wait to see you. You know what I mean?”

Willing to give me a blowjob, but nothing else. That’s not really a complaint if you were wondering. One night about six months after we started seeing each other, I was trying to get in her pants. “Please, Boyd, let me do this. Youi know what I like.”

She started to go down on me. I stopped her. “Nanci, is it possible that every time we see each other, you’re having your period?”

“No, Boyd, that’s not it. I can’t get pregnant; I just can’t. I hope this satisfy you.” Then she started.

Two months later it was over. You probably think I’m stupid. Nanci had just finished. She’d been enthusiastic, relentless and as always swallowed every drop. “Did you enjoy that?” I asked.

Here it is almost forty years later and I remember her exact words, “I did it, didn’t I?” It seemed like she spit the words out.

I don’t have much in the way of morals or ethics but I do think that whatever people do in bed they should enjoy it.

I never called her again. When she called me, I made some excuse not to see her. A few times after I hung up, I jerked off. How dumb am I? I could have had a fabulous blowjob; instead, I jerked off.

For the next fifteen years, I dated. It’s not that I’m handsome or the world’s greatest lover or have a big cock, but I had lots of dates, and lots of blowjobs; some really good blowjobs; some great blowjobs, but none compared to nineteen-year-old, Nanci Darden. And to be honest, I did compare.

Then I found the love my life; got married, settled down, have three great kids, and then my wife died. The kids are scattered around the country. I live in a nice retirement community but have no interest in dating.

What happened to Nanci Darden? I’ll let her tell her own story.

TO BE CONTINUED

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