Alexis
The water is warmer than I expected, heated by the summer sun. It feels almost like a lover's caress. When I break the surface, I look back to where he's still standing on the deck. He's watching me as he takes his clothes off and throws them down in a pile next to mine.
“Hurry up, old man," I tease, treading water.
“I'll show you an old man," he threatens.
He's not even old, but I like to make him want to prove himself to me. He's both well-built and well-hung. Most guys my age wish they looked like him. But he also has the badge of age. He wears it well, not in the way he carries himself but in the crinkle around his eyes when he smiles, the slight white tinge at his temples, and the white spot on his beard. And the way his hands know exactly where and how to touch a woman
