“So how was the sex?  Were you guys happy?”

“Yeah, well, we had us some great good fun there for a few years, and really paid attention to each other.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, for example as it turned out, we each had some hair issues."

"Hair issues?  Were either of you bald?"  He opened a beer and grinned at me.

"No, we were each blessed with the appropriate amount of hair, but there were some....uh.... other issues."  I took a long slug of tequila.  "Happily,  we were cool enough with each other to discuss them.  We were really enjoying ourselves, and honestly wanted the fun to continue, so we each looked into our own damned hearts and decided to get honest with each other and see how that would work out.”

“You got honest with each other and it turned out to be about hair?”  He lit a cigerette and took a long swallow of beer.

“Yeah.  Hair turned out to be our issue,” I said.  “Everyone has hair preferences.”  I raised my eyebrows and lowered my voice as I explained.  “He liked my girl parts creamy smooth, and I needed his nose-jungle to be pruned.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yes I do say, and I just did say.”  I took another healthy drink. “I hate a nasty bushy nostril.”  I stopped and grinned.  “I worry that maybe a monkey will jump out…..or a booger will be revealed and ruin the party.”

“Got it.  You hate the possibility of a nose zoo and the possibility of a booger and he hates pubes.”  He stubbed out his smoke, took another long swallow and frowned.  “I cannot imagine why you broke up.  Your level of communication was....uh...so, impressive.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, the communication WAS impressive.  It took me years and years of sad bad sex with men that I really dug before I realized that it was up to me to talk about what I wanted from my lover.  I finally learned that they wanted to know how to please me, but were at a loss, because I expected them to simply fucking KNOW.

Ooopsies.

All better now, however.  Much much better.

"At this point, paying attention as I do now, I wouldn’t say that my lover hates pussy hair, but the skilled work that he's performing there helps to ensure that I pay attention to his preferences.”  I smiled and continued. “A loose pube in the mouth slows things down a bit.  Breaks the momentum.”

“Yeah, okay.  That’s enough. We’ve just crossed the border into the land of too much information.”  He lit another smoke and added,  “Do I look like your gay friend?”

“Actually you do.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hold on.” I leaned in close.  “You’ve got a pube stuck between your front teeth.  And judging by the thickness of it, I’d say it was a man-pube.”

He drained his beer and got up, shaking his head slowly.  “Did I mention, ‘fuck you’?”

He leaned forward and kissed me, sweetly but platonically.  He tipped my chin up and tapped me on the nose to ensure that I was listening.  “You are gorgeous and a hot women, even at your advanced age, and clearly have had as much sex as you want all of your life.  But when someone asks you about your sex life, especially a friend that is clearly not getting any, you should never ever brag.”  He finished his cigerette and folded it over into the ashtray and left.

I sat back and sipped my tequila.  My sex life was very very good and I relaxed in my chair and revisited it…..one luscious memory at a time.

Yeah baby.  Life is very good.  But I gotta watch my mouth.....