Hunting Pixies

This is an installment in my ongoing series about the growing extramarital relationship between Steve and Margaret. The overall tone of the series is Romance, but I'm posting this one in Mature, as the age difference in this portion seems more relevant than in others. If you're here primarily for the sex, it's in the last scene of this section, and is not as intense as other portions of the story.

As I stand naked and slightly dripping outside the bathroom door, I realize I didn't grab a towel and I'm shivering a little in the cold of the room. I didn't notice during all of our well-heated activities, but Margaret has the air set as cold as I like it. I remember the stack of clean towels by the bed, and am about to head to pick one up, when the bathroom door opens with equally naked and dripping Margaret holding a towel out for me. "Sorry, baby, you might want this? Oh, and I washed your shirt, it's hanging up in the closet, can you wear it for me, please?"

"As you wish," I reply.

Margaret grins and rises to her tiptoes to give me a quick kiss. I pull her in for a hug, pressing my growing erection into her stomach, feeling her taut nipples grazing me as I squeeze the globes of her ass. "Down boy," she laughs, "and when you get dressed, could you skip the deodorant? I want it to smell like you when I steal it again," Margaret looks up at me with a mischievous grin, biting her lip and batting her eyes.

"Kinky, kinky, little pixie," I laugh and give her ass a playful swat as I release her and she returns a slap to each of my cheeks.

"You just reminded me I still need to punish you, my pervy old troll," she grins, "but I'm starving, I barely ate anything at breakfast. So later?" Margaret giggles and turns back to the bathroom as I begin drying off and looking for clothes to wear.

It takes me no time to dry off and comb my hair. Even less to dress. I pull on some comfortable slacks, going commando again. I find my cleaned shirt and a fresh pair of wool socks. I note "my" old pair that "binds" my pixie to me is sitting on top of Margaret's bags and smile. I have a plan for where I'll "feed" her, but wait to make sure Margaret agrees before choosing shoes.

I pick up my phone and watch from the nightstand, noting that it is just a little after one and laugh. That was a helluva lot of sexual firsts to cram into ninety minutes. It almost doesn't seem like that would be long enough for us to have done so much, but at the same time, that was an absolute marathon session "at my age." I have to admit, I'm pleased with how my 59-year-old body has responded to the sexual demands I've made of it over the last four days. I'll have to reward it with some ice cream later.

I take a look at the state of the bed and room. Our play area is a disheveled mess. The two towels are almost sodden. The heady aroma of extremely satisfying sex lingers strongly enough to be almost intoxicating. I feel a rise in my pants in response as I pick Margaret's plug and the bottle of lube up and place them with her other goodies. I find the condom wrapper and throw it away. I pick her dress up and fold it on the chair, smiling at her fairy wings lying on the covers of the unused half of the bed. I replace the used towels with fresh ones, not needing to raise them to my nose to inhale Margaret's fantastic scent. I straighten things up as best I can for the rounds to come, smiling the whole time.

Dressed, I walk into the living area of the suite. I'm pleased to see that Margaret has filled the ice bucket, and there are fresh bottles of Publix tonic and lemonade chilling in the mini fridge. I retrieve the insulated tumblers from my "coffee" bag and mix drinks for myself and Margaret and take a seat to scroll my phone while I wait.

I idly scrolling through my phone, closing out notifications as I do, no new messages from home, as to be expected. I spam Sophie one of the many goofy "stickers" we share on our iPhones and ask how shopping is going, not expecting an immediate response. I hear Margaret moving in and out of the bathroom and bedroom as she dresses.

Margaret comes out of the room and is once again a vision of loveliness. I'm a little disappointed that she has removed the elf ears and flower tiara, but she's salvaged the elaborate braids. Framing her beautiful face, they make her look even younger than the 42 years she claims. I'm still unconvinced she's even that old, I would guess low 30s if asked right now.

She's wearing a loose knitted sage green cardigan buttoned partially over a long embroidered cream bohemian dress with a low plunging neck, accentuating her beautiful breasts. She is braless, her natural firmness all the support she needs, her nipples obscured by the material of the sweater, but erect enough in the chill of the room to make their presence known. The flowing dress fits the form of her hips and ass perfectly before flaring out, the hem to her ankles, revealing her zip-up boots from the first night we met.

I give her a low whistle. "You're gorgeous, even without the pixie ears you look like a magical woodland being."

Margaret blushes and thanks me, making a beeline to me, leaning down, I think for a kiss, but she steals my tumbler of tonic and lemonade instead, taking a step back and a big sip. "Yummy," she says, grinning mischievously.

"Ehhemm," I clear my throat with mock sternness and turn my head and eyes to draw her attention to the other full tumbler sitting on the table next to me.

Margaret's eyes light up at the sight, "Oooh, baby, you thought of me?" She leans down to give me a deep kiss with a lot of tongue, before backing off again. "That's so sweet, but I'm keeping yours." I laugh and pick the other tumbler off the table to take a sip.

Margaret takes a seat on my lap. "So what are you going to feed me?" She asks, wiggling her hips to make herself more comfortable, tenting my pants, once again making me wonderfully uncomfortable. Tease.

"I thought maybe a picnic, if you don't think it will be too cold. And how much walking can you do in those boots?"

"Ooooh, yeah! A picnic like a real date kind of thing? Goody. And I'm from Wisconsin, it isn't even chilly out to me, it gets colder on summer nights there. But these boots are just for show, I can change them. Wait, are you going to take me on a 'long walk' like you took with 'Heather' for your first kiss in your story?"

I blush a little, she's onto me. "Something like that," I reply.

"Mmmm, my sweet, sweet troll. I'm so excited! But spoiler, I am absolutely going to make out with you at the end of it. I might even let you get to second base, if you're very, very good." She laughs as she gets off my lap and puts her empty drink down to go change shoes. I find walking shoes in my bag and put them on. Then I freshen up our drinks and grab a couple of bottles of water.

Margaret comes out of the bedroom, her sneakers a bit incongruous with the rest of her planned outfit, but she seems perfectly at ease with the look. She watches as I take my coffee-making supplies out of the bag I carry them in, which is actually designed to be used for picnicking. I have already prepacked it with utensils, plates, napkins, and some other essentials. I put the waters in, and the tumblers in the sleeves on the sides that are made for them. She grins broadly as I finish.

"You really did plan this out, didn't you?"

I nod, and she pulls me in for a sweet, soft kiss. "Thank you."

"We still need the food, though, we can run into the Publix on the other side of the highway?" I suggest.

"Sounds great," she smiles back at me, I pick up the bag, and we walk hand in hand to the elevator. She steals another kiss while we wait for it.

On the ride down, I say, "Maybe we'll actually get through some of the first date kind of questions we haven't had a chance to talk about."

"I've been enjoying having you in me too much to get to those. I guess I am a slutty pixie," she pretends to fawn before we both start laughing as the elevator doors open. Margaret wraps her arm around my waist and mine finds her shoulder as we walk across the lobby.

Meagan looks up from the reception desk and smiles, "How are you two enjoying your stay so far?" I detect some color rising to her cheeks as she asks. The glow that both Margaret and I are radiating must make the answer obvious.

"Oh, it's been absolutely earth-shaking so far, Meagan," Margaret replies with more than a hint of familiarity, then adds, "We've already gone through two of those extra towels, so I'm glad I remembered to ask for them when I checked in."

Meagan blushes furiously and suppresses a little giggle as she seems to apprise me from head to toe. I feel a little rise in my pants and am sure the outline of my growing erection is visible to her as her eyes widen a bit. I smile at her and she bites her bottom lip. Margaret is watching and smiles.

"Steve, baby, why don't you pull the car around while Meagan and I have a little chat?" Margaret almost purrs in my ear.

"Of course," I laugh a little, "It will be the grey truck, by the way."

Margaret pulls me down for a deep kiss, I hear a sharp intake of breath from Meagan, and a giggle as Margaret smacks my ass when I turn for the doors. I laugh and make my way across the lobby, not concerned that I'm tenting my pants. I leave my pixie to whatever mischief she is plotting.

I retrieve my truck from the deck, pairing my phone and setting the music volume on low, it's still set to the Jason Isbell station. I pull under the porte-cochere, park and get out just as Margaret is coming out of the lobby doors, smiling. She makes eye contact and her smile broadens as I open the passenger door for her.

"Such a gentleman, thank you, kind sir." She blushes as she settles in. I make sure she's pulled the hem of her dress in and gently close the door. When I get in the driver's seat and buckle up, she turns to me and says, "This is exactly what I pictured you driving when you said truck. I knew you wouldn't be driving some overcompensating monster."

My Ridgeline is a few years old, a replacement for the prior one that I drove for a decade. It's a very practical vehicle for my lifestyle, with just a touch of style thrown in. I'm just glad I cleaned it up a few weeks ago. It's usually quite a mess. Margaret inhales deeply as I pull out of the hotel driveway. I glance at her and smile. "What?" She blushes, "It smells like you, all manly and earthy. I like it." I give her thigh a squeeze and she covers my hand with hers, holding it in place.

"You have a nice rack," she giggles as she catches the possible innuendo, "Do you have a tent that you put on it?"

"I do, actually, but it's currently on a stand I built in a clearing on our property. I keep it there to save on gas when I'm not going to be using it. It's only just getting to be good camping weather here."

"I'd like to go camping sometime," Margaret suggests, "I haven't been in years. I used to go all the time when I'd visit the farm in Wisconsin. The things I'd let you do to me in a tent..." she trails off, biting her bottom lip and leering at my now-tenting pants.

"Duly noted," I laugh, "I would love to camp with you sometime. Speaking of the things you'd 'let me do,' what mischief were you up to with Meagan in there? And isn't Meagan your oldest daughter's name?"

"Good memory, yes, we haven't really talked about our kids much," she laughs, "but I was just telling THAT Meagan some things about you I would NEVER tell my sweet daughter, Meagan. I thought she'd appreciate an update since I decided to tell her why I needed all those extra towels when I asked her for them earlier."

"Really? You are a mischievous little pixie."

"What? She was really cute, and when I checked in with my milkmaid dress on and asked to leave a key for you, she seemed really curious..."

I'm navigating between Celebration Pointe, the development in which the Indigo is located, and Butler Plaza, the site of the nearest Publix. All of this was cow pasture and woods when I was in school here over three decades ago; it's now home to every chain retailer one can imagine. It takes a moment for her words to sink in.

"So you wore the milkmaid dress to breakfast this morning?"

"Yep," Margaret pops her 'p' at the end of the statement. "Daddy and Susan didn't mind, and I got a LOT of leers from the old guys at First Watch, and even more dirty looks from their wives. I think they had fun with it; I know I did," she laughs. "It's the Villages, anything goes, remember?" We both laugh.

"Oh, and I got Meagan's number for you, by the way; she seemed...intrigued..." Margaret winks and reaches over to squeeze my crotch. I manage to stay on the road as I maneuver through a roundabout and look for the back way into the Publix plaza.

"You seem to be collecting numbers for me..." I start, not sure what direction to take the conversation.

Margaret cuts me off before I have to decide. "I am. You wanted to go pixie hunting. You've been very, very good to me, and I want to make sure you have some nice options if we don't work out for some reason. You deserve to have some fun in your life, baby. But I still plan on making sure we work out, and who knows, maybe we'll both want to spice things up at some point?"

"Any spicier than this morning and you'll kill me, baby," I laugh, only half-kidding, then remembering, "but speaking of spicy things, did you end up getting together with Lisa after I left?" I've found the Publix plaza and have parked the truck, so I can now focus fully on her reply. I leave it running with my music playing quietly in the background.

"I did," Margaret says through a shy smile. "She came up to the room right after you left, yada, yada, yada, and we went to get Dunkin next door before she headed home." She giggles at the end, her reference to the classic Seinfeld bit clear to me.

"Yikes, it was that bad?"

"I wouldn't say 'bad,' just...not really good? It's like we were all set to make a really tasty sandwich, but the 'meat' was missing," she grins as she grips mine and strokes it through my pants. "I mean she is absolutely gorgeous, but...kind of empty? Like a phenomenally realistic sex doll? She was obviously disappointed you weren't there, and seemed a little put out that I wouldn't let her film anything. I think she wanted to get some content for more than her own personal enjoyment."

"So you guys didn't really end up doing anything, or?"

"No, we fooled around some, but I had to take the lead on everything. It was a lot like messing around with the girls who weren't really into it on the team back in college. She's a pretty good kisser, and her tits are amazing, and she sucked mine pretty well. Her pussy felt really tight when we were fingering each other, but she wasn't great at it. She licked me a little, but I think she was disappointed that she wasn't getting much of your fresh cream pie, so she didn't do it for very long. I didn't even go down on her, but she brought a really realistic-looking dildo, and I made up for it by getting her off fucking her with it. I didn't get off, but you had already left me more than satisfied, so I didn't care. She had me film the last part on my phone and send it to her, she wanted you to see it too. Want to watch it?"

"Sure," I say, my genuine indifference clear in the tone of my voice. Margaret flips through her phone and finds the file, handing it to me so we can both watch as she brings both hands to fondle my dick and balls through my pants. I respond far more to her touch than the video. It's as she described, Lisa has an absolutely phenomenal body, like a perfect sex doll, but her motions and reactions seem mechanical, almost performative? Margaret's offscreen voice encouraging Lisa to come as she fucks her with the dildo is almost more erotic than Lisa's tight lower lips gripping the dildo as Margaret pulls it back before plunging it back in.

"I see what you mean," I respond after the video has ended, "she's hot, and I'm sure I'd sure fuck her, but..."

"Yeah. I'll keep her number, but I don't plan on reaching out again. The Dunkin was good, AND, the best part is she showed me where the sex shop was where she finds a lot of her toys. It's just down the street from the Villages, of course." We share a laugh.

Margaret's hands are still working me through my pants, and she bites her bottom lip. "I'd suck you off right now, but it doesn't feel like your balls have had a chance to refill with my troll juice, so I guess we'll have to go in and find some picnic food?" The tease releases me and gets out of the truck, closing her door and walking over to mine.

I exit, adjusting my pants as best I can, hoping my erection will subside before we get into the store. Margaret laughs at my predicament, and reaches up to give me a kiss. "I'm sorry baby, I can't help myself."

"You aren't sorry at all," I growl, as I kiss her back and squeeze her ass.

"Mmm, no, I'm not," she purrs as she nuzzles into my chest. I hold her for a bit and we collect ourselves and walk to the store, arm-in-arm. I catch sight of our reflection in the glass of the doors as we enter, and we look like we could be father and daughter, inappropriately close to one another, but the age difference is quite apparent. I'm not concerned at all.

I grab a basket, and we make our way hand-in-hand through the deli area, deciding to split a salad and a wrap. We add a small tiramisu in the bakery, and some grapes and carrot sticks and hummus in the produce section. I sense a few stares of judgment from older women we pass, curiosity from younger ones. The men almost universally give me the look that is a silent high-five of congratulations, or that may be my imagination.

The cute college-aged girl at the register gives us more than a once-over and smiles. I lean down to whisper in Margaret's ear, "Don't." She giggles and squeezes my hand.

She can't seem to resist as I complete the transaction, saying, "Okay, Daddy, let's go enjoy our picnic. Maybe you can have me for dessert along with the tiramisu..." The poor girl at the register blushes as Margaret leads me away by the hand, laughing.

"Slutty, slutty, pixie," I say under my breath before joining her laugh. Our arms entwine as we make our way back to the truck. I open the door for her and pull her in for a deep kiss after she's sitting, then close it.

As I start the truck and the music comes back on, Margaret says, "I love your taste in music, by the way. Is this a Pandora station?"

"It is," I confirm, "Jason Isbell on Deep Cuts mode."

"Ooh, one of my favorites. I've gotten to see him a couple of times, once at the Alabama, and once at the Lyric. David got me tickets, but wouldn't go with me. I dragged my bestie Anji with me to both. Not really her thing, but she's always a good sport."

"I saw him once in St. Augustine. It was a great show. The Lyric is open again? That's cool. They were talking about restoring it when I lived there 30 years ago. Is Anji the friend that 'encouraged' you to get laid this week?"

Margaret laughs, "She is. She was my teammate and roommate most of the time I was at Alabama, and also went into nursing in Birmingham after school."

"Remind me to thank Anji if I ever meet her."

"Oh, I think you'll meet her, I definitely want you to, you'd like each other." Margaret blushes a little, hesitates, and then says, "Steve, can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Margaret."

"In your list of rules that you made with Beth, I noticed you didn't have anything about not being allowed to 'catch feelings,' or 'fall in love?'"

"That's right. We kind of skirted around that when we came up with the list. It didn't seem like something we could really regulate? I think we both took it as a known risk, and something we'd have to deal with if and when it came up."