Most of the time I agree that age is just a number. Being 60 doesn’t bother me. I’m fit, have most of my hair and a dick that works just fine, thank you very much. I’ve made it a point to look ahead and not back, and that attitude has served me well. People guess I’m in my late 40s to mid-50s.

On the other hand, sometimes age matters more. I have a wife who is 22 years my junior. And that age difference has introduced challenges over the passing years.

It was slightly alarming to some people when I — at 42 — met and quickly married a 20-year-old. Clara and I were wild about each other from the beginning, and there were no doubts whatsoever that we would be a pair. Our romance was more of a firestorm than a courtship. But I loved every sexy minute of it.

But let me tell you a little about me, before I get to the sexy stuff.

My siblings and I operate a cattle ranch in a sparsely populated part of a Western state. We inherited the place from our parents. At the time I met Clara, my brother and his family were living in the main house that had been my parents’ home, and my sister lived in the nearest town, a half hour’s drive away. At that time, I lived as a bachelor in a small house on the property that had once been home to my aunt.

It wasn’t that I’d led a sexless life before I met Clara. At 19, I’d married a schoolmate of mine. We were horny kids who’d long been messing around. My young bride had a round little ass and spectacular breasts. And I had a perpetual teenage boner. It seemed a perfect match.

But it didn’t last. She was a smart kid, but she was about as ready for being married as I was — which is to say, not at all. The two of us lived in town, in a house close to my sister. The marriage went on for two years before coming to an amicable end. I moved back to the ranch and into the tiny bungalow.

I had a few girlfriends in the years that followed, but nothing that stuck. By the time I was 40, I thought maybe I would be a bachelor for the rest of my life, only occasionally visiting some city or other to prowl around for a quick lay.

And then, two years later, Clara burst on the scene.

She was the daughter of my sister’s friend, and she’d just completed her junior year at an agricultural college. She wanted desperately to work on our ranch that summer. We’d hired some other students from the college in the past, but never a woman. Any apprehensions about her soon evaporated. She was determined to be a cowwoman, even though she’d grown up as a town girl. Clara knew her way around a horse, and she knew how to move a herd of Hereford cattle from one corner of a ranch to another. Nothing and nobody intimidated her.

As a bonus, she was as sexy as living fuck: slim, pale and blonde, with a lithe, toned body. But it was her eyes I really fell for, though. They were a dark indigo blue, and they showed her inner fire along with her love of mischief.

I thought she would maybe be interested in one of our ranch hands — one or two of them were decent-looking and could carry on a conversation. But she was more at home spending time with my brother and me. When we were out on the range, she would eat her lunch with us. She wanted to know about the history of the ranch, about our late parents.

“Why do you want this life, Clara?” I asked her one day as she rode shotgun with me in the pickup truck that I was driving down a long, dirt road. Clouds of billowing dust followed in our wake.

She pointed far in the distance to the slopes of a mountain range.

“Look at that sky,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I want a life where I could look at that sky day after day?”

I wanted to kiss her hard that instant.

I didn’t. But one evening, two weeks later, the two of us sat together on the porch swing, drinking wine and, eventually, making out. I hadn’t been with a woman in a few months and all systems were go for something more than kissing. We held back, however. Afterward, though, I thought I’d screwed up by going as far as I did. Technically, I was one of Clara’s bosses, you see. I knew that our making out was bad form.

“We shouldn’t do this again,” I said as she was about to head off to her bedroom at the other end of the house.

“Probably not,” she said. “But we will, don’t you think?”

The next day, I had a long talk with her, trying to make things right. She told me she’d been attracted to me from the moment we met.

“But I’m old enough to — ”

“Don’t say it!” she interrupted. “Look, I’m mature for my age — always have been. I could read Dr. Seuss before I turned five. I skipped third grade. Could have skipped fourth, too. I want to be with you, Ernest.”

I was elated, naturally. But we cooled it until after the summer was over. One weekend that fall we met at a hotel in the small city where her college is located. That night, we went to bed together for the first time.

I remember her body was incredibly pale, and her nipples were like pink carnation buds. The thing I recall most about that night, though, was lying on my belly with my face at her crotch, feasting on her clit and pussy as she moaned and shuddered with passion. I had not had such great sex since Bethany, a couple of decades earlier. It’s a cliché to say that Clara made me feel young again. But that’s the truth of it. That night, my middle-aged dick did a an excellent impression of my 19-year-old cock on my first wedding night. But even better, I was seasoned and more self-assured. When I slowly pushed my steel-hard prong into her tight cunt for the first time, I knew, without doubt, she was the lover I’d always imagined but hadn’t figured I’d ever find.

We married the following August, only a couple of months after her college graduation. A little later, we moved into the brand-new house we’d built for ourselves on the ranch. As I said earlier, some people were alarmed by the age difference. But her wise mother said it best: “Clara’s an old soul. We never expected her to marry a schoolboy.”

Yeah, folks wondered if the marriage would last, but it did. However, I’d be a liar if I said things didn’t change. That started fairly early in the marriage, after she gave birth to our two beautiful daughters. Our bodies still fit perfectly, but they were evolving. Clara became more voluptuous in her 30s: her breasts fuller and her voice huskier. But I was in my 50s. My hair had grown gray around the temples, and then that grayness spread. When my pubic hair began to change color, I shaved it off, like the guys in porn movies do.

We kept our sex life fresh by experimenting with slightly daring things. We enjoyed finding unusual times and places to make love. Several years ago, we went into town in the middle of the day. We snuck between rows of books in the nearly empty public library, where she gave me a discreet — and very quiet — blowjob.

Eventually, we began to talk about opening up our relationship. One time we flew to Seattle and went to a swingers meet-and-greet, but we didn’t quite feel the right vibe. Anyway, we live in the middle of nowhere, and most swingers are urban or suburban folks. It seemed pointless.

A year ago, the last of our daughters went off to college at about the time I had knee-replacement surgery. For the first time in my life, I felt pretty damn old. Along with that, I began to develop a strong fantasy about the hotwifing scene. When Clara and I made love, I’d deliver a stream-of-consciousness speech about how I’d love to see her fuck some young stud. As I rambled, she and I would get all “het up,” as my late mother used to say about livestock in rut, and then Clara would masturbate me and/or suck me off. Her growing lasciviousness really turned me on.

We spoke about finding a single guy to make the fantasy a reality. But who? Any candidate we found would have to be discreet. Anyone in town was pretty much out of the question.

And then a new young vet showed up in our area, who I’ll call Sam.

We liked Sam from the first time we met him — during a dire emergency. Our border collie Champ had had a nocturnal run-in with a coyote. I’m not sure how the wild canine had fared, but Champ hadn’t lived up to his name and was in bad shape. Sam raced out to our place to help repair the damage. Champ had been the first love of our daughters, and they would have been beyond heartbroken if we’d lost him. Sam helped the dog pull through, and Clara and I were left with a very positive impression of him.

Sam came out to our place fairly regularly after that. My brother and sister agreed with Clara and me that he was a step up from our previous retired vet. Clara was always especially glad to have him come out for a visit. One day I teased her about having a little crush on him.

“Shush. He saved our daughters’ dog,” she told me. “I’m always happy to have him come by.”

“I think you like his bedside manner.”

“That’s B.S., Ernest,” she said. “You talk like he was treating me and not a ranch full of cows.”

“So, why are you blushing?”

She shot me a look and said, “I can’t help it if he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Whoa, so you admit he’s caught your fancy?”

“Don’t go there, Ernie,” she said. She tried to sound stern, but she was suppressing a smile.

“Maybe that’s exactly where we should go,” I said, knowing she’d realize I was referring back to our pillow talk about the hotwifing thing.

“Enough now,” she said sternly, making it abundantly clear the topic was closed, at least for the time being.

But that admission of her attraction got the ball rolling, and it rolled fast.

One weekend, I went with Sam and a couple of other guys on a fishing trip several hours away. During that excursion, I had some long conversations with the doctor. He told me about his relationship with a young woman while he was in veterinary school. The romance had soured just before he got his degree. He told me what a lucky guy I was to have such a sexy wife. When I returned home, I told Clara of that remark while we were in bed messing around. We were lying close together, and I was playing idly with her clitoris.

“Don’t tease me,” she said.

“You want me to take my hand away?”

“No. I want you to stop taunting me about Dr. Sam,” she said. “If you can bring him to this bed, bring him. If not, stop yammering about him.”

“Deal!” I practically shouted.

My hand pressed harder on her clit, and it took me less than a minute to bring her to a quaking orgasm.

Soon after, we invited Sam over for supper and more.

On that fateful night, I cleared the dishes, poured coffee and brought

the strawberry rhubarb pie to the

table where Clara and Sam sat. She had served us a hearty pot roast, and the three of us had downed two bottles of Malbec. The wine had calmed our nerves, but it was still awkward making the transition from dining room to bedroom.

I’d called Sam a few days earlier, saying I wanted to come by his office to talk about something. He was clearly surprised to learn that “something” was an invitation to come out to the ranch for dinner and to give my wife the fuck of her life. It was a tricky proposition. I’d known if he were offended, I might need to find a new veterinarian.

Fortunately, he wasn’t offended. He quickly said he’d fantasized about making love to Clara from the moment he’d met her. Still, he said he’d better sleep on the idea. But the next morning he texted me: “Would love to join u and Clara for dinner soon!” He punctuated the message with a grinning emoji that made clear his unbridled enthusiasm.

Later, he told us he’d thought about adding the notorious eggplant emoji to really hammer home the extent of his horniness, but he decided he’d better be tactful. 

I was the one who finally initiated things. After dessert, I stood behind Clara’s chair and began caressing and kneading her shoulders. She sighed. Sam gazed at her from across the table as though hypnotized by the scene. My hands reached down and massaged her breasts. Then I moved my fingers to the buttons of her blouse and unfastened them. Afterward, I unhooked her lacy bra and released her gorgeous breasts. Now it was Sam who sighed. My fingers traced circles around her nipples, which were like hard knots.

“Our bedroom is just down the hall,” I said. “Shall we?”

Clara and Sam got up from the table. He took her by one hand, and I reached for the other.

“We shall,” Sam said.

The bedroom had been prepared earlier, bathed in soft light with strains of gentle guitar music playing. I pulled back the quilt from the big bed and sat in a chair as my wife and Sam sat side by side at the edge of the mattress.

“Kiss her,” I said.

He removed his glasses and stowed them safely on the nightstand.. He touched her face and pulled her mouth to his. He gave her lips a series of tiny kisses, like a bird going for seeds, one after the other.

“Kiss her breasts, too,” I added.

Sam moved his mouth to a nipple and took it between his lips, sucking it ever so softly. Clara’s eyes were closed, savoring his gentle lovemaking. With one hand, I began rubbing my cock through my khakis.

Sam murmured to her: “May I kiss you … further down?”

She laughed a little devilishly and told him, “Of course, you may, Sam.”

He removed her short skirt and then pulled off her lacy panties and its matching bra. Naked, she lay on her back on the bed. Sam, still fully clothed, lay on his belly so his face had access to her neatly manicured pussy. I leisurely undressed as I watched the scene. Before long, I was down to my boxer shorts.

The soft kisses Sam gave Clara’s cunt and clit were making her wet and ready for something more. He seemed to know just the right moment to begin lapping vigorously. Clara began moaning softly. I shucked my boxers, spit on my hand and began stroking my rigid dick.

“Someone’s still dressed,” I said. “Sam, I think it’s you.”

Pausing from his efforts, Sam said, “I can fix that.”

He got off the bed and stripped. 

Sam’s a relatively short man, about the same height as Clara, actually. But he is in great shape, with a gymnast’s build, and has a muscular chest and hard belly. When he slipped off his tighty-whities, a surprisingly large circumcised boner sprang out.

“Whoa!” I said, totally impressed. “How big is that thing?”

“Only about eight,” he said as he gave it a few tugs.

“What do you think of Sam’s pole, Clara?”

She pushed him onto his back and said, “I think I want to go fishing.”

She licked his knob and then engulfed the length of his erection. I recalled the first time she’d deep-throated me and all the incredible pleasure she’d delivered. Sam grunted like a bull as Clara sucked him for several minutes. I’d mentally guessed what she’d do next, and I was correct. She turned him onto his stomach and moved her face near his buttocks. Parting his cheeks, she buried her mouth in his asscrack and began tonguing his butthole.

I’d alerted Sam to the fact that she liked to do this, so he could take measures to ensure he was squeaky-clean. He clearly met with my wife’s approval.

I had prepared a bowl with condoms, and it was on the nightstand beside Sam’s glasses. I reminded him the rubbers were there, whenever he needed them. After having Clara’s tongue teasing his bunghole for several minutes, he was ready. He sat up, rolled a lubed, ribbed condom onto his big rod and asked her how she wanted to be fucked. She told him she wanted it missionary-style.

They got into the classic position, and she moaned as he pushed his mighty cock inside her pussy. Then he gave her several soft, shallow thrusts, followed by a deep, hard jab. She made a sound that was practically a shriek. The pattern continued with more of the same, but as the fucking went on, he increased the number of hard and deep strokes. Before long, he was riding her like a randy stallion, and she began crying out, “I’m going to come!”

Just as he launched her rolling orgasm, he thrust one last time — deeper than ever — and climaxed with a groan.

I knew what was next. She would want to eat his load. She asked him to save the jizz in the condom, and she opened her mouth wide so he could pour every drop into it. I masturbated furiously as she drank down his semen and suddenly squirted a shockingly big load on my belly, which Clara also gobbled up greedily.

That was the first of many nights of hardcore play with our young and well endowed veterinarian. I am not at all embarrassed to have shared the sexy details. Just as a man needs extra hands to manage a huge ranch, so he sometimes needs assistance with a hot young wife in their marital bed.