Heartbreak

I looked around the bar area. Realization set in that everyone there was at least twenty years younger than I was. Even the bartenders. All except one, though. There was a guy, probably in his late thirties, trim and ivy league-looking even in his baggy orange swimming trunks, sitting at a table by himself at the outer edge of the bar area. One of the twinks had approached him as he caught my eye. He waved the student away, though. He had his eyes trained on me.

If my tan wasn’t so good, everyone there could have seen that I had turned red as a beet. I’d always been a little older than the clientele. That had been part of my package. The twinks liked getting laid by someone obviously a little more experienced than they were. Most of these kids wanted a dominating daddy fucker. Many the time it had been my buns undulating between those spread twink legs in the palm and fern fringe until toes curled and some young university snot felt the filling out of the bulb of my condom deep inside his ass.

But a twenty year difference between me and all but one other? And I had about ten years on him even. Why hadn’t I seen it coming.