Over the last couple of days, I've relayed two stories Sandy told me of her sex life in the early 1970's.

In the second installment, I told how Sandy seduced her husband Paul's boss. After their night of passion, Sandy thought she'd be more settled. But, not surprisingly, that wasn't the case. Paul was still boring when he was at home. He still foolishly went hunting and camping with his mates almost every weekend, leaving Sandy even more bored -- and incredibly horny. The Boss had been a much more exciting fuck, but Sandy still thought something was missing. She, Paul, and the Boss knew nothing of female orgasms -- you don't know what you don't know. I know this is hard to believe when we can now watch people fucking with a few clicks of a mouse, but in 1973 or 1974 there was no sex education.

When Sandy first told me of her past sexual escapades she only told me about the guy in London, Paul, and Paul's boss. Years later, when we started to write our erotic novel, I asked her (purely for research!) if she'd ever have a partner go on and on and on while fucking her, and how she dealt with it.

"Yes," she replied. "Gene, the American."

"Who's Gene?" I asked.

Remember that Sandy and Paul lived in a small company town in small country miles from the States. It turns out that Gene was a 55 year-old expatriate executive at the company. His wife apparently divorced him, so Gene requested a transfer and moved many thousands of miles away. She said he was a fairly quiet person: she rarely saw him at community events or the pool. As an executive, he had his own company house.

Gene would stop by her desk to chat, and one day he invited her to lunch at the canteen. They got along, and a few weeks later he invited her to his house for a Saturday barbecue. She expected other people to be there, and was surprised to arrive to see Gene, smiling, by himself. He wasn't ugly, but was 30 years older than Sandy and had a dad bod.

Sandy was curious about the US and Gene's life, and he was willing to share information -- including a lengthy description of how his marital sex life had gone from wonderful to a completely dead bedroom. Gene discovered the reason for this during the divorce: his wife had been fucking her co-worker.

I believe that if someone shares intimacies in a conversation it relaxes others to share their intimacies. Sandy told Gene about her boring sex life with Paul and her tryst with another (but left out the Boss' details). When telling me this story Sandy explained that she somehow felt she'd "led Gene on," so when it started to get dark and Gene invited her inside for a drink, she knew that she would fuck him. She said she just couldn't "hurt him." And she hoped he, as her fourth partner, might be able to rock her world.

Sandy said that Gene was very hairy -- hairy chest, hairy back, and very hairy cock and balls. In the mid-1970's nobody -- particularly men -- trimmed their pubic hair. Sandy felt atavistic.

Gene wanted a blow job. Sandy had a vague idea of how to do this and tried a few times with Paul, Paul, but he just wanted to fuck; Gene gave her some instructions and she improvised, being guided by his hand and his moans. She said that his engorged cock felt like styrofoam in a plastic wrapper in her mouth.

After what she thought was a long time, he lifted her head and guided her to lie on the bed. Gene's cock was not particularly long, but it had a decent girth. Sandy was very wet, but it still took some time and gentleness to get it all in. And then Gene began pumping. And pumping, And pumping. He didn't vary anything -- speed and depth remained unchanged. And after what seemed a very long time, Sandy began to hurt. She made her best effort to muster a sexy voice and said, "Gene, are you ready to cum?"

And that was all it took -- perhaps he was waiting for a cue. Gene busted and filled her with a pint of his stored cum. It poured out of her pussy when he pulled out. He rolled over, exhausted.

And that was Gene.

He did not attempt a second round -- he was spent. He also seemed to neither know nor care about the female orgasm. Sandy's pussy hurt -- she (and presumably Gene) did not know lube even existed, and if they did know, it certainly wasn't carried in the company store and there was no internet shopping.

To Sandy's surprise, Paul came home early on Sunday morning -- rather than in the late afternoon. He normally showed little interest in fucking Sandy outside of the bedroom at bedtime, but this day he was randy. She was wearing her customary long t-shirt which Paul quickly removed. He took her to the couch and fucked her sore pussy. And, she thought, Paul fucked her a lot longer than customary.

"What brought that on?" she asked, afterwards.

"I don't know," he said. "You just smelled particularly sexy."

I meet and hire Sandy in the next installment, and become her fifth partner. But ours wasn't a one-night stand -- we had a four-month affair. I won't tell you about that (in accordance with the subreddit rules) but can tell you about the following six years when I didn't see her.