It’s never ceased to amaze me that more women have taken an interest in me since I turned 50 than when I was younger. And I’m not just talking about women of my own age, it’s though all the age groups. Well, this happened to me the other night. After I had been to an evening meeting in East Lancs I drove home down the motorway and realised that I was dying of thirst so rather than go home I popped into a an inviting looking pub to have quick a pint of shandy. I don’t know what was on that night but it was very busy and I had to fight my way to the bar. At last I got served and took a long draught of my drink so as not to spill any as I turned away through the crowd. As I did so a hand fondled my bottom. I didn’t imagine it, it lingered long enough to turn into a grope. Turning I came face to face with an attractive woman, probably 20 years younger than me. She apologised saying that she had mistaken me for a friend. Her body language said different. My shy side wanted to take over, but I pulled on my confident façade and considered the possible replies. After a moment I leaned forward and almost shouted in here ear , “now I’ve turned round you can have a proper feel!” This time she did blush, but I felt a hand between my legs. It was such a crush nobody could see what was going on. “Where is it?” she shouted. “Give him a minute,” I said. “I’m one of those unfortunate blokes who’s nothing at all when he’s small, but when he’s big, he wins prizes!” “You’re not joking,” she said. The old hormones were gushing through the veins and he was doing me proud. We stood and chatted as much as the noise would let us until we had finished our drinks and she said, “lets go outside.” Outside and round the corner into the dark and her tongue was down my throat and her hand between my legs. When we came up for air she told me that she got jealous for the couples getting it together out here and admitted that she had picked me out. She wasn’t really like this. I unbuttoned her blouse to find a beautiful pair of breasts and said was there nowhere better we could go because I would like to spend some time playing with them. She said we could provided we did it there first. “I want to be put up against the wall and shagged like a tart. I’ve seen them do it, they lean against the wall, stand on one leg and hold the other one up with their hand to adjust to be the right height. Oh God! It turns me on watching them! Sometimes they wrap their legs round the blokes back, I don’t know how they don’t fall down.” She lifted her skirt to reveal on knickers. So we got up against the wall and, you’ve guessed, we couldn’t get it in. There was a lot of huffing and puffing and childish giggling, but we couldn’t get it right. Then I started to loose it! It would have been better if at least one of us had known what we were doing. Realising that things were sliding downhill she took me by the hand and lead me to one of the picnic tables. Her lips and tongue soon restored the matter and she settled for a shag leaning over the table. I have since wondered if anybody in the cars we could see going past on the road could see what we were doing. As good as her word we adjourned to her home for a leisurely fuck with plenty of foreplay. Before we finished she said lets have another go up against the bedroom wall. Suddenly it slipped in, deep and hard, we’d found the knack. After we’d both come she said, “we’ll know how to do it next time.” Next time! That was when I realised that I didn’t even know her name!