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I rushed through St. Pancras Station to board the 07:16 Eurostar to Amsterdam. It was a last-minute decision; I’d run out of cannabis, and Amsterdam’s the closest place to purchase it legally.
I’m an American ex-pat, retired, and living south of London. I’m old, and many I’ve known my entire life have died. My parents, aunts, and uncles are all gone. I’m the second oldest among my cousins, soon to be the oldest. A younger brother died six years ago. My time, too, will come quickly enough.
I’ve long been the repository for my deceased family’s photos, diaries, and slides. I never discard any of their letters. I’m digitizing this to distribute to those still living. Boxes contained thousands of my aunt’s slides taken on their travels in the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s, showing them alive and in love. Another crate held photo albums. One shows my grandparents with an infant and two toddlers on the porch of a simple wood-framed house. The children are my father and aunts, their lives chronicled in successive albums. In the late 1940s, a cousin appears, Kartal Escort then another. My mother and her family fill another album. Baby pictures mark my arrival; then, my brother.
I kept hundreds of letters from my Aunt Myrtle in another box. I’d read them when I first received them, but not since. I’ve now arranged them in order. When I faced difficulties, she wrote more. The stack for 1982 was the highest, and whatever happened then worried her.
Of all the people in these albums, only one’s still alive; me.
My childhood was 1960s California; of course, I tried pot, but alcohol was my drug of choice. As I’ve aged, the more damaging its effects, and I cut back. California legalized recreational cannabis. On holiday to the wine country, I stopped by a dispensary and bought a few things to try. Experimenting, I found the dose and frequency I desired. It’s now a pleasant adjunct to retired live in my little village.
Midday, the train arrived at Amsterdam Centraal Station. I walked to my favorite coffeeshop, Greenhouse Tuzla Escort Effect, near the Geldersekade canal. I selected my purchases and ordered a flat white, light up my first hit in weeks, and sat back to enjoy the world.
It filled me with wanderlust, though. The coffee finished; I walked outside along the canal. Not thinking of where I was, I found myself walking by large windows, each displaying a beckoning woman. In one of them, a tall, plus-sized woman, shockingly reminds me of Aunt Myrtle. I smile, continue my walk, then pause to sit by the canal.
I’d seen Myrtle nude only once when I arrived early to her house to help prepare another of her scary Halloween parties. I entered as always and didn’t see her; I heard noises upstairs and went to look. The bathroom door was open. I glimpsed her just as she stepped over the rim of her bathtub. She laughed, flicked the door closed, and told me to wait downstairs. The exciting spark of that unexpected sight fueled many erotic fantasies over the years.
Two hours Anadolu Yakası Escort until the 17:15 Eurostar to London, I decided to indulge and walked back to her window. The young woman slipped between the curtains separating the window display from the rest of the room, and asked, “Speak English?”
I nodded, yes.
“I’m Amy, how may I help?”
“No fucking, I only want to feel your skin, massage, and kiss your body.”
We agreed on a price, and I paid. She locked the door, removed her robe, pointed to the bedside stand where I saw the oil, and sat on the edge of her bed. I suckled her breasts and pressed my face lightly into her belly. I asked her to turn over to massage her back, ass, and legs.
With oiled hands, I pressed my thumbs into the muscles along her spine, working out and down. She raised her ass when I kneaded her ass cheeks, exposing her asshole. Assuming it a request, I bent over, kissed her cheeks, and pushed my tongue into her as far as I could.
She spread her legs and reached her hand under her belly to finger her clit. I pressed my hands around each leg and massaged her thighs while licking her asshole. It felt like she came but maybe faked it.
Afterward, she gave me her card, “When you come back, I’ll give you a discount for the same.”
Life seems worth living today.
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