My Blonde Goddess

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Ass

This is a work of fiction. Persons, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. In particular, Donovan’s in San Diego is a real place, but Geoffrey the gay restaurant manager is fictitious. Bart is not a real person, nor is Jodie, the last particularly unfortunately, considering the author is more than halfway in love with her.

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My name is Bertrand Arthur Raymond T_____. Everyone except Mom has called me Bart since I was little. I am a fifty-two years old, white with brown eyes and olive skin. I may be part Hispanic—I don’t know who my father is. I’m in good shape, my muscles aren’t bulging but they are taut and strong. I’m six feet tall and 180 pounds, which is reasonably well-proportioned. My hair has gone gray, but in a way that is “silver fox” rather than “old fart”, which is why an admirer of mine nicknamed me “The Silver Fox”.

Hate to break it to you, but my dick is of average size. I wish I had eight or so inches as much as you do, but I don’t, I’d be stretching the, ah, point to call it six. My skill in using it is another matter. At twenty, I “had a natural talent”, at thirty it was “holy shit you’re good”, at forty “you are legend”, now they just gasp “OH MY GOD!!!”. I have heard it said “it’s not the size of the boat, it’s the motion of the ocean.” I’m a pretty good argument in favor of that saying. My skill has been a huge asset.

In terms of preferences, I’m bisexual. I prefer woman by about a two-to-one ratio, going by the raw numbers. I have loved men in the sense of being much more than friends emotionally as well as physically. But in a deep place in my heart, I long for someone to be my one-and-only, and in those secret dreams I want that someone to be a woman. I’m a living, breathing contradiction: I’ve also never been able to entirely give up men.

Sexually speaking, there is damn near nothing I won’t try at least once as long as all parties are consenting adults, and I’m very open to learning new ways to float your boat. I’ve liked more new thing than I’ve disliked.

The story begins in a suburb of San Diego, California. I’ve lived my whole life in or near San Diego. It was July 2016, and I was at loose ends. I didn’t have a lover. I was having a serious dry spell with women. I had a one night encounter with a fairly hot lady in mid-March, but there had been nothing since then. I had a couple of semi-regular male fuck-buddies who took care of my cock, so I wasn’t starving sexually, but I was craving a woman.

This wasn’t only about sex, though that certainly was a factor: I was craving a woman’s body, but I was craving a woman’s heart and soul as well. A work friend of mine suggested that I try this singles’ discussion group where he met the woman he was currently dating. So I decided to give it a try. I didn’t know it yet, but God was really doing me a solid.

The group met Friday nights in the basement of a liberal church where they rented space. Perhaps one third of the regulars were also members of the church, but the group was entirely irreligious. By conservative Christian standards, the church was entirely irreligious.

I tried the group on the third Friday of July.

Everyone met in the huge main room of the basement, and sat in a circle. I looked around for a seat when an incredibly beautiful young woman motioned me to sit next to her. While everyone else was getting seated, she was looking me up and down, undressing me with her eyes.

I found her interest arousing. I also checked her out, quite openly. Not that I wouldn’t have checked her out anyway, but it pleased me that the interest was mutual..

She matched my six feet in height. I guessed her weight as a well muscled 160. Her short hair was platinum blonde, with eyebrows the same and long eyelashes maybe half a shade yellower. I found myself fantasizing about the color of her bush.

The most prominent feature of her face were her emerald green eyes, a feature you more often see in gingers. They were set at just the right distance apart to highlight her very cute button nose. Her mouth was wide, and her lips were full, with with a natural light cherry red color.

“Eyes that look like heaven, lips like cherry wine.” — The Oak Ridge Boys, Elvira.

Her skin was deliciously sun-bronzed. I wondered where her tan lines were or if she had them (more fantasies). Her white tank top showed the upper parts of her large breasts. At just the right angle, I could see the top of her lacy black bra that just barely covered her nipples.

She wore tight-fitting blue jeans. Her ass was not particularly large, but was a perfect heart shape. Her legs were long and nicely shaped. She wore a pair of green flats that were a decent match for he color of her eyes.

Needless to say, I really liked what I saw. I licked my lips unconsciously. She later confessed that my response to her had made her very wet. She licked her lips in turn, quite deliberately. My already antalya escort hardening cock sprang to full attention. She smiled as I quickly covered up so third parties couldn’t see. I was glad she saw how exited she made me. I already found the idea of pleasing this blonde goddess quite intriguing.

What can I say? I say she’s the hottest woman in the world. If she doesn’t make your top ten, you just aren’t into girls. I didn’t yet know her name, nor had we spoken a single word to each other.

The moderator announced a warm up topic: “What’s your favorite pickup line?”

We went around the circle and everyone would introduce themselves, then briefly comment on the topic if they wanted to. The first few introductions were not memorable, then it came to the woman sitting next me to me. She said ” Hi, my name’s Jodie”, then she looked at me and asked “would you mind role paying this with me?”

I was already hard from having this goddess’ attention. This made me harder. I answered “Sir Bart at your service, my queen. Your wish is my command.”

Jodie gave me a radiant smile and said “Hi, I’m Jodie, and I find you attractive. I’m bisexual. I like men better, but I’m not giving up women whether I fuck you or fall in love with you. If that’s not OK, goodbye and no hard feelings. If that is OK, I’d really like to get to know you better. What do you say?”

I was taken aback, to say the least, but by the grace of God I was able to answer promptly. I said, “Hi , I’m Bart. I also find you attractive, Jodie. I’m not only OK with you being bisexual, it kinda turns me on. I’m also bisexual too, and I hope that turns you on. I like women better, but I’m not giving up men. Let’s go for some coffee after the meeting and start getting to know each other.”

Jodie said, “Nice role playing, Bart. Best answer I’ve gotten so far. Your turn.”

I said “You already know I’m Bart. I’m going to ditch my best line, and use a gender-swapped version of Jodie’s line from now on.”

I whispered in Jodie’s ear “I’m not sure I was role playing, Jodie.”

Jodie whispered in my ear, “I’m sure I wasn’t, Bart. I’d love to have coffee with you first.”

The implications of the word “first” sunk in, and I marked something on my metal checklist of my cravings: woman’s body, check. Woman’s heart and soul not sure yet but just maybe…

When everyone had introduced themselves, we broke into groups of ten. Two groups on opposite corners of the big main room. Each other group went down the hall to a Sunday school classroom.

People were mostly in the same group with the the people they had been sitting near in the big circle, but the moderator switched some people to get each the gender balance of each group as near five-five as possible. Our group had six women and four men so the moderator looked at Jodie, clearly intending to ask her to switch groups. But before he could get the words out, Jodie looked at him in a way that clearly made him very uncomfortable. He asked another woman to move.

Jodie can do things with a glance that the average person can barely do with an AK-47 on the one hand, or an industrial-strength vibrator on the other. It’s not supernatural, or I tell myself that, anyway. But it sure fits the Blonde Goddess motif pretty well.

Jodie and I were a group together sitting next to each other on a sofa. Usually there was an assigned topic, but tonight was open discussion where you could talk about anything. The group did that every couple of months.

Jodie just let others go first while she smiled at me and undressed me some more with her eyes. I returned the favor and we .ignored the others while they droned on. Then we quietly whispered to each other, beginning the process of getting to know each other. It was going well when the last speaker caught our attention.

The last speaker said, “hi, I’m Jim” as stood up and pointed one finger of his right hand at me and another at Jodie, “you two, get a room already, that’s disgusting… blah, blah, blah…” [at this point Jim made some very homophobic slurs about Jodie; maybe he spared me because he thought I was just play-acting to get laid.]

I jumped to and my feet and strode toward him, not yet decided whether to cordially invite him to have intercourse with himself and punching him in the mouth so hard he swallowed his teeth, or ripping his balls off, or both. I was leaning towards both.

Say what you will about the Silver Fox, but thou shalt not blaspheme the Blonde Goddess. Before I got to him, thus spake the Goddess: “Please sit down, Bart, I love it that you want to amputate this cancerous prick for disrespecting me. But this one is mine.”

In a fury colder than deep space, Jodie spoke , “Jim, you stupid, pathetic, judgmental ass-wipe. I’ve seen you salivating about my tits and don’t lie about it. But you’ve never even asked me to coffee. Not that it would do you any good. I’d rather cut off my tits alanya escort than let you suck them. And you have your panties in a twist because Bart and I like each other and show it. What the fuck is a singles’ group for, circle jerks? And then you top it off with the most vile homophobic garbage I’ve heard in my entire life? Now sit down, shut up, and FUCK OFF!”

Jodie flashed her emerald green eyes at him with a gleam I have never seen in any other human eye: the gleam in a great white shark’s eye just before he devours a man might be a pale shadow of it, then again it might not.

Jim shook a finger at Jodie and tried to speak but couldn’t get the words out. His turned red. He sputtered, he chocked, he gasped for air, he turned blue, he collapsed back onto the couch he’d been sitting on. Just before anyone recovered from shock and called 911 he wheezed a couple of times and started breathing again.

Jim slowly recovered and asked Jodie “what the hell did you do to me?” in a voice of abject terror.

Jodie said, “Shut up, you miserable excuse for a man. I just met Bart, and I know already he’s worth a hundred of you, or probably I’m insulting him. But since he gets to fuck me and you have a date with your right hand, I expect he’ll forgive me. Now listen and listen good: the reason you aren’t dead is that I didn’t want you to be—just barely. Next time I won’t be so merciful.

Jim was terrified? I was terrified. But also exhilarated. Did I mention I dig strong women? Jodie can leave “strong” laying dead in the dust. More fantasies: Jodie in a hot dominatrix outfit making me her slave—not usually my thing, but for her I might (oh hell, I damned sure would) make an exception.

Don’t get me wrong, nothing supernatural happened. Jodie has an awesome presence like no one I’ve ever seen, and being the target of her fury upset Jim emotionally so much that he temporarily choked. At least that’s what I like to tell myself, and I believe it once in a while.

Jodie continued, “Bart, what I’m going to say doesn’t apply to you. You acted like a man and showed you were interested with no bullshit. I’m taking you home tonight and I’m goddamn proud of it. I am so damned tired of bullshit from men and from women”

“But for the other eight people in the room and everybody other moth-eaten prick and dried up twat in this damned singles’ group, listen up. I’ve seen all you men checking me out on the sly. Not one of you has ever came up and asked me to coffee. Do you not have any balls? Are you afraid of me because I’m bi and don’t hide it? And you women are worse, looking at me like I crawled out from under some rock—even though I’ve seen some of you scoping me out on the sly, too. I’m done with you hypocritical homophobic shits.”

You might have noticed that Jodie can be just a tiny bit outrageous. I sure noticed, and I liked it. What sane man wouldn’t like the thought of a woman who’d never leave him on a guess about how she felt?.

I said “Jodie, we were going to coffee after the meeting. But I have this psychic vibe that you might want to blow this this Popsicle stand and go now. Have I read the tea leaves correctly?”

“You have indeed, Sir Bart. You chariot will be safe here for the night and the coffee shop and my apartment are two blocks away. It’s a great night for walking.”

“Forsooth, my queen, ’tis an honor I deserve not. But I will gladly accept Queen Jodie’s unmerited favor. We shall away to the coffee shop.”

Jodie laughed and said, “we’re a couple of lunatics, aren’t we? We’ve haven’t known other for two hours, and it’s already obvious we like each other and don’t only want to fuck. People who just want a on-and-done don’t carry on like we do.”

I couldn’t tell her she was wrong, not that I wanted to. I liked this young lady rather intensely.

We walked out of the room we’d been in, out of the basement, and through the parking lot as we talked. When no time gets wasted on bullshit, getting to know someone goes a lot faster. We were soon walking arm in arm towards the coffee shop, pausing to kiss occasionally.

After one particularly funny story I told, Jodie said, “Bart, you really have a way with words, you delicious crazy man. Are you hungry? They have great food.”

I told her I hadn’t had dinner and would love to join her for dinner as well. We soon arrived at the coffee shop. We went inside, found at booth, and sat down beside each other.

Jodie said, “I want their bacon cheeseburger special. They put every thing but the kitchen sink on the burger, and the fries come with bunch of different things to dip them in. You can get any drink you want, but I always get the cherry coke. They mix it by hand. I like extra cherry.”

The waitress came and asked what we wanted. I said “Two bacon cheeseburger specials with cherry coke, extra cherry.” The waitress wrote down our order and said “Coming right up. Let me take a guess, this is belek escort your first date. You look really great together.”

I said, “why thank you, Janet”, reading her name tag, “you are right, It is our first date.” She took our order to the cook.

I asked, “how did you get the name Jodie? It a pretty name and I think it suits you, but the only other one I’ve heard of is Jodie Foster the actress.”

Jodie said, “I was named for her! Mom is a total movie nut, and The Silence of the Lambs is her all time favorite movie. I’ll give you one guess what my middle name is.”

I said “hello, Clarice” in my best Hannibal Lecter impression, which is pretty terrible.

Jodie gave a loud guffaw and asked, “Was that Anthony Hopkins or Mickey Mouse? But you did get the right answer. How did you get the name Bart? It can’t be from Bart Simpson, you are older than him.”

Just then, Janet brought our meals, and we started enjoying the burgers. They were as good as Jodie said they’d be. As we ate, I said, “my mama tagged me Bertrand Arthur Raymond T_____. You do the math.”

Jodie is quick on the uptake, and she immediately laughed even louder than before, then said “Sorry to laugh at your name, but you’ve got to admit it’s funny. What was your mom smoking? It’s just a wild guess but are you named for Bertrand Russell the philosopher?”

I was somewhere between surprised and astonished. I didn’t share my full name with just anybody, but over my lifetime, there must have been twenty or thirty people who knew my real first name. Jodie is the first one who guessed who I was named for. I said, “Jodie, this is getting uncanny. Do you already know me better than I know myself? Just for the record, my middle names are for Arthur Conan Doyle and Raymond Chandler: Mom loved detective novels. Maybe I’m telling you so you won’t guess and really freak me out.”

Jodie laughed. She said, “I’d actually been thinking about quitting the group for a while, but it was a nice evening for walking, so I tried it one last time. I’m glad I did or I wouldn’t be in this booth setting next to a hot silver fox. Did you go gray early? You have a lot for forty, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Fifty”, I corrected, “and would it suck to be alone or getting coffee with one of those losers at the meeting instead of sitting next next to a blonde goddess. What are you nineteen, maybe twenty at the outside?”

“Twenty-five, flatterer,” Jodie said as she playfully nudged me in the ribs, ” I could get used to that Blonde Goddess stuff, O Silver Fox.”

Just then, Janet arrived at the table with a big slab of chocolate wipe-out cake with two forks. She said “for the two lovebirds, on the house.” She cleared away the dinner dishes.

Jodie and I thanked her in unison, then Jodie asked her, “we’d like to sit and talk for a while, could we have some coffee?.

Janet answered. “It’s a slow night tonight and we won’t need the booth, in fact we won’t need the section. Stay as long as you like, we never close. I’ll bring you a pot, and I’ll close this section to give you more privacy. If you need anything or you’re ready to leave, give me a shout out, otherwise I’ll leave you alone to enjoy each other.”

Janet put out a “this section closed” sign and quickly returned with a big pot of coffee. I pulled a fifty out of my wallet and handed it to her saying to go ahead and close out our bill, and to keep the change. She thanked me profusely and gave me a sincere smile almost as beautiful as one of Jodie’s.

We began feeding each other cake. Thinking about it a while later, I realized we were acting just like a couple of lovebirds. Neither of us paid much attention, it just felt so natural.

Jodie said “Bart, you said your mom loved detective novels. Is she no longer with you? “

I answered “Mom died a year ago: she had a massive coronary in her sleep and never woke up. I miss her terribly, but she lived a good life and died an easy death: she hadn’t been sick a day in her life. My dad was never in the picture: I was conceived in a drunken one night stand with a man whose name she didn’t know. She met and married a really good man who was nuts about her when I was twenty-nine and they got twenty years together. He’s grieving her hard but is otherwise well. His name is Arthur.”

Jodie squealed “OMG, you and Arthur are both so lucky her favorite author wasn’t Agatha Christie!” She positively giggled like like seven year old girl in pigtails.

That giggle really got to me. Here was this young but very adult woman with a body that was looking at smoking hot in the rear view mirror, who could literally stop a man’s breath, who could still show that level of child-like innocence. That sent yet more wake up calls to both my heart and my cock.

“Jodie, does it really not bother you that I’m twice you’re age?”

Jodie answered, “That one’s so easy Bart, don’t let a true but irrelevant fact like our ages worry you. My dad was seventeen years older that my mom. He was a total silver fox like you, and he was a great dad I absolutely loved. We lost him to cancer when I was eleven. I’ve always been attracted to older men, and a Freudian would really get his jollies analyzing my Daddy Issues.”

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