Life is not over at fifty. I know, because my wife is fifty-one, while I am a bit behind her at forty-nine. Want to know more about us? Read on.

From what I hear and see we are not the average couple. We are still madly in love as we were when we had met over twenty years ago. Now it's only twice a week. The demands of our two businesses intervene, and I think my age is slowing me down a bit. Eva however, wouldn't mind three sessions a day.

When she looks at you, you will feel it at once. Here is a lady who is young at heart, her libido undiminished. There is something in her twinkling eyes that makes men flock to her, while most women seem to feel intimidated, or envious. The way she moves says 'sex', whether she strolls along the store windows in the mall, leisurely looking at the displays; or even when she sensuously lifts a chicken drumstick to her mouth and bites into it.

She usually wears her shiny coal black hair in a pony tail. Her tits are only a B cup, which had bothered her when she was younger. Now she is glad, they are still firm enough that she needs no bra, Bras are nothing but a nuisance anyway, she will tell you. And I agree wholeheartedly. Sometimes, though, she is a bit self-conscious when people stare at her, because her nipples usually tent the fabric of her dress.

She surely demands attention. Her face looks young still, her lips have not faded, and her slim figure makes her appear more petite than she is. She tries hard to please me and often wears my favorite, a black off-shoulder dress that flows down almost to the floor. When she walks her gold sandals peek playfully out from under the hem. She wears little jewelry. Maybe a pearl necklace with a black dress; but often just a single red or white flower in her black hair just above her ear.

For our anniversary I had rented a small cabin in Virginia, way out in the country. We wanted to be with each other, without neighbors, without radio or TV, just my wife Eva and me. I had to attend an important meeting in Dallas and so I had asked Eva to be in charge of logistics.

When I joined Eva at the cabin late on Friday evening I found a different Eva. She had seen me coming and quickly had unlocked the cabin door. Her cheerful, smiling voice greeted me when I knocked.

"Don't stand there, come inside."

I threw open the door and I was stunned. In the center of the cabin stood a young lady in a red miniskirt, topped by a most revealing white blouse. A large set of armbands adorned her wrist.

The burning logs in the fireplace bathed the cabin with a warm, eerie, unreal glow. The gold tiara on her black hair sparkled in the orange light of a single kerosene lamp, accentuating the young girl in the center.

She had thrown out her hip and placed one hand on it. 'I am here for you,' the posture said,' come and get me.' Her dark pupils were unnaturally dilated with desire. She must have had arousing thoughts waiting for me.

"Close the door, and your mouth also. It's cold outside," she laughed, still holding her pose.

I dropped my overnight bag and my briefcase, closed ad locked the door before I greeted her with a feigned so-what-attitude. That attitude lasted less than twenty seconds and I rushed to her. I hugged her, I kissed her sweet, lush lips, then her throat, her neck, wherever I found exposed skin. I was young again.

When we finally let go of each other, we were out of breath, we were so happy that we laughed tears. She smiled at me with that impish smile of hers that I love so much; a smile that held a promise, a smile that spoke of many things, but mostly spoke of love.

"I am sure you must be hungry, unless you ate the peanuts they serve as dinner on the plane nowadays," she chuckled. "I have something better, the same dinner that we had on our day."

"Give me a few minutes to wash and freshen up a bit, Love," I told her, giving her a quick kiss.

The kerosene lamp had been replaced by a single candle in the center of the table, when I returned. The white plates with the gold rim contrasted beautifully with the flaming red linen place mats. She had even brought a table cloth almost like the one that had been on the table then, twenty-two years ago.

She had found an empty pork and beans can and cleaned and scrubbed it bright. It held a beautiful bouquet of flowers from a nearby meadow, a bouquet that now graced the center of the table.

Her choice of wine glasses told me that there was a bottle of white wine waiting for us, probably a Moselle. The single flower next to each plate completed the setting. This was how the dinner table had looked then.

The memories flared up in me and I crushed my darling to me, I held her tight for a long time, my head on her shoulder. Some passionate kisses later I released her and stepped back to look at her, her sparkling eyes, her lush lips, her dainty neck that I so much love to nuzzle.

It was a simple meal tonight as it had been; fried chicken with mashed potatoes and Cole slaw. But something was different and it took me some time before I finally figured it out.

It had been love on first sight when we had met. Back then the room was flooded with the urgency of youth; tonight it was the deep, mature love that wanted to reaffirm itself.

"I have a confession to make," Eva blurted out. "Yesterday morning Mom called, she wanted to see me before I left. Well, when she came over she appeared so serious that I thought something had happened to her. It turned out that she wanted to ask a serious question.

'Eva dear, I am getting older,' Mom said, holding on to my hand. 'There is something important that you and Bill should hear from me before I pass on to the Happy Hunting Grounds,' Then Mom begged me, 'I know that you wanted to be by yourselves, but grant me this wish to enjoy your first evening with you. It's very important to me and both of you should hear what I have to say.'

"Bill, I did not have the heart to turn her down. We will have more years than Mom and many more anniversaries. I hope you agree with me that I told her how to find us. I even programmed her GPS unit you gave her on her last birthday."

What could I say; I just took her in my arms and kissed her.

The knock on the old wooden door came just as Eva finished setting the table with a third plate.

I opened the door and was greeted by Mom, wearing her new overcoat to fend of the chill of the fall evening air. She stepped in and hugged me fiercely as if she had not seen me in years. Good grief, I thought to myself, what could possibly be that important. Good thing that I loved her dearly and respected her immensely because we had to wait till after dinner.

While Eva retrieved the food bowls she had set in front of the fireplace to keep them warm, Mom inspected the table setting. She nodded approvingly. She was as proud of her daughter as I was of my wife.

"This is the table almost exactly as the table Eva had set on the date that we celebrate every year, down to the choice of food," I explained to Mom. "We want to remember that day and what better way than to repeat some of the trappings of that day."

We sat down for dinner, Eva and I facing each other, as we had been seated then, not next to each other as we are always seated now. Eva had turned off the kerosene lamp and the room had taken on a fairyland glow. There was magic in the air it seemed, making our shadows dance to the tune of the lone candle.

Eva looked me in the eye with a strange intenseness and picked up a drumstick. She slowly moved it to her open lips and held it there, just looking at me. Then she lovingly and ever so slowly let her tongue glide over the skin the full length of the drumstick.

The flickering light of the flames in the fireplace accentuated her sensuous movement. She moved her tongue back to the tip and swirled it there before slowly taken the meat in her mouth. She pulled it out again and nibbled a bit on its side. If sex had been a liquid, it would have dribbled all over the tablecloth.

Eva lowered the drumstick and placed it on her plate. Her eyes never left mine, but now the smallest hint of a smile appeared as she picked up a fork with mashed potatoes. It also was slowly lifted to her lips where she slowly and noiselessly sucked it in her mouth.

She picked up her drumstick again, still holding me prisoner with her eyes, and again lifted it slowly and sensuously to her lips where she first sucked the end of it in her mouth and then leisurely twirled it between her teeth,

Her Mom had stopped her fork in midair, sitting still with her mouth slightly open, watching the unreal scene. She was utterly fascinated by her daughter's exhibition of sexuality.

Later, after dinner, Mom told us that there was an old movie called Tom Jones that had a similar scene in it and she wondered if we had seen it.

"Never heard of it," I told Mom, "but we definitely have to rent it if it is still available. Who knows, Eva could maybe pick up some additional ideas."

"Mom," Eva chimed in, "it is story telling time. We are listening and it better be good." She ended with one of her girlish giggles.

"I did some research," Mom started, "I wanted to know if what we had done when Eva was born was the right thing to do at the time, knowing what we knew then.

The doctor had told us that our baby had both sexes and we would have to decide whether the baby should grow up a boy or a girl. We chose boy as most parents did at that time. All that is different today, thank goodness. Even the name for that condition has been changed to interrsex. And by the way, one in two thousand babies has it in some form or other, I found out.

Anyway, our boy Tommy had no interest in baseball, he preferred playing house with the girls next door. And he loved to join me in the kitchen, watching me cook or bake .Once I caught him wearing my silk panties. Another time I surprised him in the laundry wearing a skirt of mine and twirling around to make it flare out."

"I remember, Mom. And I remember how embarrassed I was at the time." Then Eva added, "but you never told me that this decision to be a boy was made by you when I was born. That explains a lot of things." She got up to hug her Mom. "I can't blame you, Mom, you didn't know at the time what my brain was telling me. You did what you thought was best, OK?"

"Eva, Dad and I have been having many guilt feelings over the years that our pretty girl had to live the wrong life. It was not easy, knowing we had made the wrong decision. But we felt we had to tell you and your husband that it was your parents who had unwittingly made a boy out of a girl."

I sat by, trying to imagine me in that situation and I was horrified.

"Eva dear," I asked. "You have told me some about school, like that they called you names like faggot, and worse; but you never told me what happened at socials like proms."

The moment I shut my mouth I knew that I should not have asked. Eva's face hardened. She stood up to get another bottle of wine. When she returned she spoke resolutely, bumping the bottle on the table for emphasis.

"Let's stop it right here. Yes, school was hell. But now I am here." Then her smile returned.

"I have a gorgeous hunk of a man for a husband, wonderful parents who love me dearly, and a sweet, loving daughter from my first marriage before my gender change operation in Colorado when I was still a male.

And some day soon we will have to explain that mess to her, that I am both, her Mom, and her Dad; and that there is even more, she actually has two Moms and two Dads."