Every woman has a fantasy and being happily married and in my mid-thirties, I felt mine would remain just that. But when it happened, I thought that a select few would enjoy reading about it.
One evening, a group of co-workers and myself went out after work --"just for a few drinks." I don't usually drink, especially that early, but since there was no need to rush home, I saw no harm.
We went to a small local bar; put three tables together and the ten of us sat around the table like King Arthur's knights. It quickly became apparent that I was behind the time. It seems that all the others (being single or divorced) were all out trying to " make" on someone, both in the group and the others in the bar. The girls were discussing who were "hunks" and "good pieces of meat." The guys were picking out what "piece of ass" to hit on.
I never thought of myself as "a piece of ass". Even though I have a large chest, my waist and thighs are showing the middle-age spread, I was learning to accept.
Looking around I didn't see anyone I was overly excited about. As I listened to their conversation, I realized that their description of hunks and my idea of the hunk I'd like to jump in bed with were two different people.
"Hunks" I explained "are not just the guys with muscular bodies, deep tans, dark hair and baby blue eyes."
At that point, a good-looking guy walked in and stood at the bar. He was probably in his thirties and was of average build. He had a nice tan that was showed off by the gray muscle shirt he was wearing, which also revealed hair all over his shoulders and back. The cap in his hand usually covered an almost totally baldhead.
"Now, there's a hunk," I said.
Everyone turned his or her heads to look and then laughed. I didn't care though. I sat and stared. Here he was -- my fantasy man just walked through the door. I often dreamed of being with this man. I'd dreamed about this hairy "hunk of meat" laying next to me. I could feel his hands roaming all over my body. My cunt tingled. I imagined his fingers, first one, then two; reaching deep inside my pussy. I could feel the pressure of his hands holding my thighs as his stiff cock pressed against my body. I could see myself rubbing all that hair, with lover's -sweat making our bodies sticky.
I could rub that head. Oh! What a head. I stared at that shinny dome.
Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by someone saying to me, "Well, do you want another drink?"
I nodded yes and blinked my eyes several times to bring my train of thought back to the present. I looked at the others and then looked back to check on my 'hunk', but he wasn't there. 'Oh well', I thought to myself, 'all for the better'.
I hadn't realized I said that out loud until Kathy said to me, "So you think your better than me, let's go give it a try."
I had no idea what she was taking about till we got into another room that was filled with video games. "I'll go first", she said as she pumped two quarters into "Millipede". I chuckled to myself.
As she was ringing up point after point I had a chance to survey the room. At a machine by the door was 'my hunk'. My turn came up and I tried to concentrate on the snakehead but my eyes were fixed on the bald-headed reflection on my screen. I tried to block the fantasy from my brain and play the game but it become more and more difficult. I'm not usually the forward type, but I decided to exert myself. I approached him, took a deep breath and said, "I couldn't help but notice your.... your..." I couldn't say hair, I couldn't say any hair. "...Tan."
"Thanks, can I buy you a drink? Why don't we find a table?"
He pointed to a table on the other side of the door. As we sat, we chatted about a variety of topics and I could see that he was feeling uneasy. I kept staring at his head. He'd rub it. I'd stare more. He began looking around and every time he looked back at me, I'd be staring at his head or shoulders.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to stare, but I love baldheads. They're fascinating to me". I could tell he was puzzled.
"Really! I fantasize about making love to a bald head."
