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The New Way

By: arielxo



The day had started out pretty normal; Ariel went to work bright and early in the morning, got into fights with other employees over paper work they had done wrong, and she ended up locking the door to her office around 3 to get some peace and quiet. It was just like any other day. Finally 5 o'clock came around and Ariel started to pack up her briefcase and head out of the building. As she got into her car, her phone started to ring and she instantly grumbled, figuring it was probably a coworker wanting to get back into the building at the last minute because they had forgotten something or lost something or just had to pee. She dug in her purse for her phone, and luckily found it in time before it went to her voicemail. Relief came over her when she saw that it was her fiancé, James. She smiled and answered the phone, "Hi you," she said, biting on her bottom lip. She loved hearing his voice right after work, it made her feel less stressed out. "Hi," he replied. He sighed into the phone, sounding troubled. Ariel caught on, asking him what was wrong. 

"Just come home, Ariel. We need to talk," he said, sighing into the phone again. A nervous feeling engulfed Ariel's stomach, and she took a deep breath in, trying to think of something to say. Had she done something wrong? Was he going to leave her? But what had she done.. There was nothing she could think of that would upset him. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke again. 

"It's about something I found on your computer," he stated, sounding a little more than irritated. Ariel thought for a moment, but couldn't recall anything that would anger him. Actually, she had gotten a little angry herself that he was even looking through her computer at all. She thought they had established that going through the other's things meant you started to become untrusting, and she couldn't think of anything that would justify him feeling that way. She sighed and spoke softly. 

"I'll be right home," and then he hung up.

Millions of thoughts raced through her mind on the twenty minute drive home, which evidently felt like twenty hours, if not more. She got every red light, every cross walk, and it seemed like she'd never make it home. Finally, as she pulled into the driveway of their three bedroom, two bath ranch house, it dawned on her- She had written stories about her fantasies. Her S&M fantasies. She took a deep breath in and let it out, looking at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her red curls fell down to her shoulders, shaping her petite, pale face. Her brown eyes glistened in the early evening sun, and she bit down on her bottom lip, thinking she had looked pretty gross after a long day of work. But that didn't matter. James sounded pissed, and she had to go in and deal with the issue, not worry about how she looked. She took one more deep breath before getting out of the car, leaving her briefcase in the backseat- she'd worry about that later. As soon as she walked to the front door it opened, and James was standing there, his arms folded across his chest, an annoyed look on his face.

"I found your stories," he said, looking her up and down. She couldn't say anything, so she just nodded and looked up into his blue eyes, wanting to kiss him, but she wasn't sure how he'd react, so she held back. He ran a hand through his long, brown hair and tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck. She hated when he did that. Neither of them spoke, so he moved to the side so she could come in and closed the door behind her. 

"Go to our room," he started, "I'll be in there in a minute." He wouldn't look at her. She walked into their bedroom and sat down on the edge of their bed, folding her hands over her knee. She was nervous, and she wasn't sure what was going on or what was going to happen. And then he came in, like a bat out of hell, grabbing her by the neck and pinning her down to the bed, straddling her. She looked up at him, shock in her eyes, and he simply smiled down at her, loosening the grip on her neck slightly before he spoke.

"So, this is what you want?," he asked, pulling her hair to tilt her head back with his other hand. "To be treated like some slut? A slave?" There was such demand in his voice, and Ariel could feel herself beginning to get turned on, and she could see that he was, too. A bulge had started to form under his jeans, and that made Ariel more turned on. She looked up at him and simply muttered the word "yes" before he tilted her head back more. "Yes, what?" He said, tightening the grip on her neck again. 

"Yes, Master," she said, almost like a moan. He let go of her and stood up in front of her, unbuttoning her blouse. He pushed it down past her shoulders to reveal her black lace bra, which held in her supple D sized breasts, and he cupped them both in his hands, squeezing hard. A tingle went through her body and she tilted her head back, letting out a small sigh. 

"Stand up," he said, moving back a little to give her room. As she stood up he moved his hands around her back, unhooking her bra. She let her bra and blouse fall to the floor, looking up at him as he moved his hands down to her waist, pulling down her skirt and panties. He smiled when he caught a glimpse of her shaved pussy, and he reached down and spread her lips, running one finger over her clit ever so gently. He felt that she was wet, and this made him move his finger faster, causing a moan to escape from her lips. He pulled his finger away, pressing it against her lips, making her taste herself. She moaned again, taking his finger in her mouth. He grabbed her by her cheeks, forcing her to look up at him. 

"Do you like that?," he asked.

"Yes, Master," she said with a smile. 

"Good, now suck my cock," he said, pushing her down to her knees. She willingly unbuttoned his jeans, pulling his cock out of his boxers. It sprang to attention, inviting her to suck it. She licked the tip of it, and he pulled her mouth down onto his cock, making her take the whole thing in, causing her to gag as it pressed up against her throat.

"I didn't say lick it," he seethed. He pulled her head by her hair, moving her mouth up and down his cock roughly, fucking her mouth. She moaned, gagging every so often, looking up at him, into his eyes. 

He moaned, moving her head faster, ramming his cock down her throat. She clutched his legs, closing her eyes, feeling his cock move into her throat and back out, over and over. She thought she was going to choke to death, but he finally released her, and she pulled away, kissing up his chest while she stood up, facing him. She leaned in to kiss him on the lips, but she shoved her down to the bed, straddling her again. 

"You've been bad," he whispered, "and now it's time for you to be punished." He reached into their nightstand and pulled out one of her toys, smacking her on the cheek with it. She closed her eyes and moaned while he slid it into her mouth, making her suck the toy. He pulled it away and moved down in between her legs, rubbing the toy over her clit.

"You're not allowed to cum until I say so," he said, rubbing the toy faster against her clit. She groaned, looking down at him, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes, Master," she said as he shoved the toy into her pussy, leaving it still for a moment. He slowly moved the toy out before ramming it into her. He did this over and over, and she moaned each time he rammed it back into her. It felt so good. He watched her face as he rammed it into her pussy again, and he smiled as she moaned, feeling himself grow harder. He leaned down and ran his tongue down her pussy and back up again, settling on her clit, moving his tongue in small, slow circles while he fucked her with the dildo. She thrust her hips in rhythm with him, moving her pussy against his mouth. He pulled away and reached up to her neck, pinning her to the bed.

"Sit still," he demanded. He moved back down, thrusting the dildo back into her soaking pussy, putting his attention back to licking her clit and fucking her with the toy. She moaned and groaned and looked down at him, watching him eat her pussy and move the toy in and out of her. She felt an orgasm coming, and she gasped, grabbing onto his hair.

"I'm gonna cum," she said. "I'm gonna cum, baby." She repeated. He instantly pulled away from her, shoving the toy into her mouth. He smacked her on the cheek, shaking a single finger at her.

"No, you're not," he said, "I told you, you aren't allowed to cum until I say so, now don't make me repeat myself again." He smacked her on the cheek again, shoving the toy down her throat before pulling it out, setting it on the night stand. 

"Now you're going to let me fuck you in the ass," he said, standing at the end of the bed.

She nodded and turned over, sitting on all fours, her ass facing him. He moved his hands over her ass, squeezing each check, and then smacking it hard, leaving a red mark. He did it over and over and over until it seemed as if it'd bleed, but she loved every second of it. He held his cock and directed it toward her tight asshole, but he slid it into her pussy. She gasped and looked back at him, confused, but pleasured. He thrusted into her pussy a couple times, smacking her ass as he did. He pulled his cock out of her ass and directed it toward her asshole again, sliding the tip in slowly at first, but then he rammed it in hard, causing her to cry out in pleasure. 

"Yeah," he said, grabbing onto her hips, pushing his cock in and out of her asshole roughly. "Do you like that, you little slut?," he said, smacking her ass again. He ran his hand up her back and grabbed onto her hair, pulling her head back. He pulled her hair harder. "I asked you," he rammed his cock into her, "do you like that you little slut?," He said again. Ariel moaned loudly, feeling his cock fill her asshole. "Yes," she said, "Yes Master, I love it. Fuck my ass, fuck my ass," she said, closing her eyes as he pulled out slowly, waiting for him to ram it back in. When he didn't she looked back at him and he looked down at her, pulling her hair. "Do you want me to cum in your ass?," he asked. She knew it wasn't a question, though. She nodded, and he rammed his cock back into her asshole, thrusting a couple more times before he groaned loudly, cumming in her ass. She moaned and bit down on her lip, feeling his cum fill her. He smacked her ass one more time and pulled out, rubbing his cock over her ass cheeks. She shuttered. He pulled her up off the bed and he sat in her place, his head lying on the edge of the bed. "Come here," he said, pulling her hips toward him. "Sit on my face." 

She lowered herself over her face and she felt three fingers slide into her pussy as he ran his tongue over her clit. He finger fucked her and ate her pussy until she was on the verge of screaming. She could feel her orgasm building inside of her and she looked down at him, pleading. "Please let me cum," she said, grinding her hips into his face. "Please, Master," she said. He pulled his fingers out of her and grabbed her, throwing her onto the bed again.

"No," he said, grabbing her by the throat, "I said you'll cum when I say." He pushed his cock into her pussy and she moaned, feeling him fill her. He grabbed her legs and pinned them against her chest, angling her body upward. She felt his cock hitting her G-spot and she knew he was going to make her cum. He fucked her hard and fast, watching her face as she moaned and groaned with pleasure. He moved inside her faster, feeling her pussy throb against his cock, feeling that she was going to cum soon. He smiled and moved even faster, feeling himself about to cum again.

"You can cum now," he said as he fucked her deep and fast. She moaned and felt a wave of pleasure come over her body, an orgasm erupting inside of her. As soon as Ariel came, James came too, filling her pussy with cum, which caused Ariel to moan louder, grinding her hips into his. They stayed like that for a while, interlocked with each other in pure bliss. Finally, James collapsed next to her, pulling her close to him and, finally, kissing her on the lips. She smiled and looked up at him, letting out a sigh.

"From now on," he said, "I'm your Master, and you'll do what I say," he told her, kissing her on the forehead. 

Ariel simply nodded.

The New Way to Smoke



"I hate the way you use my language.", me-circa 1998, to an old girlfriend.



I have an old friend that used to take on the smoking habits of the people she enjoyed being near.

One person smoked Benson&Hedges, and always twirled the ends between her fingertips as she nodded/said something concerning Culinary class, nodded/said something funny about her brother from up north. It wasn't long before you would find my friend twirling her cigarette between her fingers(oh, these B&N's were on sale), nodding/asking questions about English class, nodding/accusing me up making up the word "appease".

Then along came Pasley, forgive the spelling. Pasley had a knack of letting her Canadian Player's hang out of her mouth as she drove, spoke, changed a flat tire, etc. I once watched her closely to see if she was in fact inhaling, and yes, as the smoke poured from one side of her mouth in even amounts, on count with her breath, I knew she wasn't faking. A chain smoker, she lived with a Player hanging out of her mouth. I began to sort of validate this pattern in my mind, as I watched my friend bum a Player from the girl, and smile after the first drag-"I like these. I may pick up a pack." Before long, my friend would be driving along with me, fiddling with her face in the mirror at red lights, with a Player hanging from her lips.

I knew this girl began to like me when the day she picked up a pack of Dunhill's, which was my choice brand at the time. I was quite certain that she did not, not until after one night of mere waxing and dreaming alongside each other outside near the tennis courts of NSU. The following day, with her (on sale) Dunhill's in hand, she caught up with me as I headed for a remedial life lesson of some sort, Peltier Hall.

With my cigarette between my teeth, as I smoke in such a dirty way, I'm so unapologetic for it, you see-I turned to see her light her own cigarette with her head tilted, biting on the tip as she lit, letting her cheeks sink in as she took in the flavor like she's hasn't had a cigarette in 24 hours-I watched her mimic me, I watched and enjoyed how obviously good I am at smoking, and I was so completely flattered by witnessing this.

This memory was provoked by a simple association of watching a table of four people that had some romantic association to each other in many ways, I watched the funny patterns of how we mimic and absorb the traits of those we love and like. I have often wondered who I would have been if I had never sexed this one or fondled that one, spent that week with her or that eleven week wtf with him.....what did I take? A love for a particular author, a funny noise when I'm giggling in the sack, a great kissing technique, an approach to tickling, a sensative spot, a beautiful line, in a nutshell- "new way to smoke"?

What's so good or bad about absorbing the qualities of some one we love? Is it wrong to drink a particular beer based on what some one you idolize has deemed delectable? No, I don't think so. I think it's exactly what's supposed to happen. Gorilla marketing experts would agree, but that's not my point.

Is love but a balance of idoltry and absorbtion? Is that okay, to keep blending and taking and giving the things we love? Do we have to keep examining why it is that we love them? Is that, bottom line, one of the hardest problems with this thing we call love. The loss of our individual findings and meanings, the merger creating all together new entities, the finding and being things as one?

Erich From says:(taken from Personality Theories)

As human beings, we are aware of our separateness from each other, and seek to overcome it. From calls this our need for relatedness, and views it as love in the broadest sense. Love, he says, "is union with somebody, or something, outside oneself, under the condition of retaining the separateness and integrity of one's own self." (p 37 of The Sane Society). It allows us the transcend our separateness without denying us our uniqueness.

I gave her Tom Robbins. I took Thelonious from Him. Who cares, its still a part of me, yes? Am I less original, lazier for not finding these gifts on my own? Is my hard work at finding the good music and the best wine compromised or disqualified if some one runs of with the idea? No! I didn't invent Vonnegut, so speak of him freely. Go and lie and say that you found Gogol Bordello on your own, does it really matter? We are animals based in information, in the information era of our time. I am me, times all the things I believe in you.

It's beautiful, the way we fuck eachother up. What a funny animal we are. I don't understand why doctors only work on humans, but Vets have to work on everything else. We aren't much different. We simply would like to think we are, on a very fundemental level.

Just like week, as my fingers began to meander around the soft cul de sac of a lover, I suddenly caught myself in a hot flashing memory of another time, another lover. I remembered the way she played piano along my most inaudible of notes, by simply taking a bit of sheet and using it as a playful, clever aid.

Snapping away from that moment in my mind, I immediately grabbed a bit of sheet and began to play my own tunes upon this moment being designed before me. I watched her body move in ways perhaps mine moved once before. 

Had I stolen an idea, or had I-as an imitator-managed to simply keep the idea alive? Would the old lover be flattered if I mentioned this? Would the new lover consider it cheap? 

I would like to believe that art is a conglomeration of all those that inspired them, taught them, criticized and nearly broke them. I would like to believe love is a fine example of artistry, and to love effectually, honestly, and sincerely is also a conglomeration of the various things we've learned, accepted, wronged, righted, and created. 

Indeed, love is an artform that we are attempting to master. As we find new ways to inhale love, we are simultaneously learning many new ways to exhale it as well.



The New Woman



I only had sex with one person as I waited the near year for my divorce to come through. Just one person in all that lonely period. And then only twice with them. Once the day I kicked my husband out after finding he'd been unfaithful, yet again, and once a week or so later. But that sex was wonderful. It was different to any I'd had before, it was invigorating, exciting so satisfying and it was with a woman.

But after Toni I stopped. It somehow did not seem proper. I did not have the inclination nor the will to leave my twelve year old daughter to go on dates. I didn't also feel the need to 'have a drink' with husbands of friends who once I was separated found that 'they'd fancied me for years' or that 'their wives really didn't understand them.' I hadn't realised how popular I'd been all these years I'd been with Mark. Silly girl! 

And at thirty five there doesn't seem to be that many eligible single men and after the hurt I'd been through there was no way I could do that to another woman so married ones were out. So, a combination of being emotional and very morose, disillusionment with men, a general lack of availability and trying to bring some semblance of order to my shattered life all signalled one thing. I became almost a recluse in my new apartment overlooking Epping Forest where I remained barricaded up against any marauding males with my daughter, Emma, for over a year. 

I spent that year working hard on the divorce that, thankfully, in the end turned out to be fairly amicable. Both Mark and I wanted it to be as easy on Emma as it could be and we went out of our way to avoid any unnecessary acrimony. Fortunately money was not really too much of a problem for I'd helped him build up his small company into a much larger one and he was able to buy out my shareholding. He was also generous, but then he always was and with more than money. I found out as my lawyer delved into his past that he was a serial adulterer. As it turned out he'd been unfaithful to me throughout the marriage. The bastard.

Although I had nothing to do with men and after the very brief fling with Toni I had no sex at all, it was, looking back, an interesting time. I got a new apartment in a trendy area of Essex. I started playing golf and tennis again. I got a new car and I got a job. Calling on old contacts I started writing copy on a freelance basis. Mainly, as it turned, out for recruitment ads but also some technical stuff, a little scriptwriting and a few speeches for a big company whose marketing director I'd known for some time. He badly, it seemed, wanted to get into my knickers so we had numerous meetings about the speeches he had to give as he briefed me in person. I took his briefs but never gave him my knickers, after all 'never fuck a client' is an old ad industry dictate and, in any case, he was married.

It was different once the divorce came through. Once that weight was lifted from my shoulders I felt better. I felt more able to start rebuilding my life. I stopped being the reclusive celibate. I bought a whole new wardrobe as I set out to become a woman of the 21st century. A liberated female. One who could take or leave men. One who recognised sex for what it was. Basically a commodity to be enjoyed. Not something that was mixed up with love and affection but a pleasure. An indulgence, something I would do because I wanted to. No other reason, no other motives. 

Oh yes, as I signed the final divorce papers sitting in my lawyer's office in my new Janet Regar thong and ridiculously skimpy bra under the tight leather trousers and low cut top, I was sure that I'd now be able to 'fuck 'em and leave 'em' just as men do us,

And for a while it worked just like that. For a weird year and a bit I did 'fuck 'em and leave 'em.' I may well have actually fucked a few too many and certainly I left too many for at the end there were none left. 

Was I promiscuous? Of course. Was I an easy lay? Well fairly? Was the sex good? You bet. Was I happy? Was I by fuck? No I wasn't.

My first date after the divorce was a salutary lesson and an amazing experience for me. It was also quite funny, sad, all mixed up and, overall rather disappointing!

He was someone I met at a tennis tournament. We got on well as we played and we chatted easily at the following dinner. Older than me in his early forties, Peter was a widower with two children. Well-off with his own house he met me at an opportune time just a couple of weeks after the divorce was finalised which was the time I had set myself to re-enter life! Well at least to make an effort at it. Now over a year without any form of physical, let alone sexual contact, I guess I was close to being so frustrated that even a glance from a good looking man could start things moving in me.

When he asked me out I at first found myself starting to refuse as I had done throughout the previous year or so But then I remembered my pledge to myself so I accepted. We had dinner and then I met him for lunch and we went out a couple of times for drinks. Other than a few brief pecks on the cheek and one fairly energetic goodnight kiss there had been nothing physical between us although clearly the time for that was approaching. I could feel the pressure of the 'if you don't like the heat get out of the kitchen' or more crudely, but probably more accurately, 'pee or get off the pot' being applied. After all people of our ages do not go out purely to talk do they? The moment when I, excuse me, was supposed to pee came with the suggestion from him, that I have now learned is quite prevalent amongst the new man age that had passed me by, of 'Come round to mine, I'll cook dinner.'

In the two days since he had asked my mind had been on little else. 

I just could not get my head around whether I would go to bed with him if that was proposed. On the one hand I wanted to. I needed sex and I wanted to have another man. A man free from the impositions of wife-swapping, revenge affairs and the red mists I'd had in the latter days with my ex. I needed to know whether I would be able to respond to and accept his advances. Whether I would become aroused and indeed whether I would be able to have an orgasm? I'd had no physical contact with a man for over a year and, although I had found relief and a degree of satisfaction from other means, I knew that I was enormously frustrated. I was also concerned at that for I was worried that I would appear rather inexperienced and that I might climax too quickly and make a sexual fool of myself. Was dating worth it I wondered and began to doubt it?

Countering all this, though, was my natural reticence. I had never easily given myself, other than for revenge, and I did not want to start this new period of my life as being too easy lay! On top of that, although I liked him and did, as far as things had gone, quite fancy him, I didn't know whether this would transmit itself into the sort of sexual chemistry that I felt would be necessary. I was out of touch with seduction. It had been so long that the outlook that seems to have become quite natural nowadays of, 'we get on well so let's fuck' had completely passed me by.

So in a quandary I had packed Emma off for the night as opposed to having a friend in, just in case I stayed over. Getting ready I was like a schoolgirl on a first date. I couldn't decide what to wear. Rejecting some things because I felt they were too sexy and others because they were too formal I took ages to prepare myself. I bathed, washed my dirty-blonde, with darker streaks, shoulder length wavy hair, dried that and spent simply ages with my make-up. 

I felt that I had better dress with a view to being undressed later so I paid special attention to my underwear. 

Should it be seductive black or virginal white? Or a pastel colour in between? I pondered on the bra. Net, thin and see through so that should my nipples erupt they would be clearly visible through my top, or thicker and more supportive to create a more interesting and dramatic cleavage? Tights or stockings? I mused over these critical matters for ages for ages? And then of course the panties. The modern, high-waisted cut severely at the thighs type or perhaps, a thong?

Oh the agonies of rejoining the dating game.

I eventually got myself to his house and we had a couple of drinks before he served me a well-prepared dinner. The atmosphere was easy between us and any concerns or inhibitions I had were being washed away with the bottle or so of white wine that we drank. At the end of the meal I got up and said that I would clear away but he wouldn't hear of it saying,

"Leave it until tomorrow." 

Feeling surprisingly warm towards him I went round the table and I kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for the lovely meal. His hand reached out and rested on my hip as I bent over and my top of course gaped a little. His eyes, naturally I suppose went down my top and he pulled me onto his lap.

We kissed for some time his hands running up and down my back, outside the grey cashmere sweater. It sent pleasant feelings through me. I felt comfortable and at ease on his lap and showed no resistance when I felt his hands inside the sweater on my bare back. The intensity of his kiss increased and I responded. As his tongue searched deep into my mouth sending signals of his passion to me, my tongue touched his and pressed back against it. It obviously worked for slowly he moved his hand round to the front moving closer and closer to my breasts but taking the time to gain my tacit approval at each stage.

And then so lightly he touched one of them. It felt wonderful. The first time a new partner touches a woman intimately really is lovely and so arousing. And this was no exception. They had not been caressed by anyone other than me for over a year and so the feelings were even more intense and special. Slowly and gently he stroked and rubbed me through the thin, black lace teasing the pink tip into a rock-hard protuberance. Feeling no resistance at all from me he became more welcomingly adventurous easing his fingers inside one of the cups so that they were right on the nipple that once more exploded with feelings.

Now confident of my compliance and agreement his boldness grew and he pushed the thin sweater up so that he could see my breasts. I was pleased with my choice of bra for I knew that his eyes would be gazing at the two orbs encased in the gossamer thin, black net material and that he would be seeing the swollen nipples clearly. We manhandled the sweater off and it was only moments later that I felt the clasp being unclipped and the pressure on my breasts relieved as he removed the bra. He was now looking at me naked above the waist and he said very softly,

"Oh Monica they are so lovely!"

It's a very special moment when a new partner gazes at a woman's bare breasts for the first time. The feelings of pride as he compliments you and the, usually, clear indications that you are arousing him are lovely as is the want that seems to go through one from exposing such an intimate part of the body. His hands, now on my bare flesh, did incredible things to me and he murmured.

"Let's go to bed Monica?"

Feeling a little like a topless waitress at one of those lap dance clubs in London I stood up as he, in a rather laboured way, lifted himself out of the deep chair clearly a little embarrassed at his erection being on show,. Standing, in just the leather trousers and high heels, I waited his arrival in a vertical form and that seemed to take for ages. But at last he was beside me the bulge in his trousers looking half rather ridiculous and half extremely encouraging, 

"Wow I've caused that," I thought.

We embraced and began to sort of dance to the music. His strong arms pulling me to him I felt ready for him and was relieved that I felt prepared to break my celibacy in such a romantic style. I undid his shirt and let his quite hairy chest send extra thrills through the skin of my B to C cup boobs as we gyrated together on the spot his hands exploring my bottom through the thin leather that was stretched taught across its rounded softness. As if glued together I felt the assuring hard length of his maleness pressing wonderfully and confidently into my belly. After such a long abstinence from feeling an erection it was both exciting and a little daunting for I was out of practice at what was soon to come. Female intuition and sheer lust took over though and I found myself pressing back against the rod-like piston of flesh draining every last bit of sensation from it into me. It was a gorgeous feeling.

My breasts jiggling he walked me up the stairs with his face close to my swaying bottom to his bedroom I felt wantonly expectant as we stood by the bed and embraced once more. Looking at each other we, wordlessly both started undoing our trousers our eyes taking in each new sight that was revealed.

His boxer shorts ballooning out around his erection. The lacy top of my panties that showed him that I was not wearing tights. His muscular thighs and the respectable bulge in his pants, the tight pocket of lace across my pubic area and the tops of my black, self-support stockings. His flat tummy and the mass of brown pubic hair clustered above and around his manhood as he slid his boxers down. My legs encased in the luxuriant silk stockings that I hoped flattered them and made them look longer and more alluring. My body was now crying out to be made love to as I saw, for the first time in over a year that object of such pride to men and intrigue to women. That appendage that to women has little X factor other than when it is up close and personal and about to do its business. And his wasn't at all bad.

"No," he croaked as I went to remove my panties. "Please leave them on for a while." Feeling a might over-dressed against his total nakedness I did though do as he said.

I was now hellishly nervous and not completely sure that I should be doing this. I liked him, he made me laugh and he wasn't bad company but was that enough to warrant having him fuck me? I pondered for a moment as I lay on the bed in my black thong and stockings and watched him climb on and lay beside me.

As we kissed, his hands caressed my bottom moving nearer and nearer to my crutch that was, actually, aching to receive him. And then they were there! As his fingers slid inside my panties and touched the, by now, sodden wetness of my lips my body once more exploded with sensations. The feelings that his touch were sending through me were accelerated and increased by those I was gaining from having his warm, throbbing length grasped, probably slightly too, firmly in my hand. I had forgotten just what it was like to hold a man's penis. The combination of the hardness, with just a touch of give in it, and the warmth and feeling of throbbing power that I had created in him is heady stuff I always find and especially so with a new partner. Oh how I wanted that in me. I felt giddy with the thought that so soon now I would once again have a man invade me.

But that had to wait its turn for my body was reacting powerfully to the hand doing such deliciously arousing things between my thighs. I was cumming and I knew there was no stopping it. My body also transmitted that to him and he pulled me even tighter to him as the shudders of expectant sexual release ran through me. I sighed and moaned as my first man induced climax for so long took over and transported me to that place of such pleasure.

That was bad enough. Here he was thinking he'd pulled a woman in her supposed sexual prime. One that was up and ready for anything with up to twenty years solid sexual experience behind her. A divorcee who was naturally gagging for it and who had the maturity and skills to be a really good lay. And what does she do? What she bloody well does is cum immediately he touches her. Oh yes what a lay? What an experienced woman? What a skilled lover? And it got worse for, as the amazingly powerful orgasm swept over me with wave after wave of what seemed like increasingly intensive sensations, so my emotions just exploded and I started to cry. Floods of fucking tears everywhere, mascara down my face, hair all over the place, bloody tits heaving and my body jerking like a junky doing cold turkey I cried and cried. The poor sod had no idea what was going on and even less as to what to do. I could see that he wasn't sure whether to cuddle me leave me alone or jump between my thighs and try and fuck me.

The evening didn't end on a very high note. After that exhibition I think he was convinced that instead of an experienced lover who would transmit him to sexual heaven, he had on his hands a bloody nutcase that might easily take him to the hell of madness. 

Needless to say he wasn't happy that all he'd got for his efforts slaving over the stove was a grope of my tits and a hand in my knickers and I have to say I felt bad about that. I recognised that it was not good value. A half dozen quite delicious King Prawns and a lovely crown of lamb, not to mention two bottle of Chablis and four or five previous dates, must be worth more than a flash of boob and a touch of pussy. If not the laws of economics, that I know may at times be cloudy, would have no meaning at all would they? So compensation was needed. Restitution had to be paid. The scales of economic justice had to balance. But what was the going rate? I didn't know for I hadn't had to balance any such scales at all for ages. Maybe the currency had even changed since I had last dated. Then what was possibly a hand job might now have become a blow one! What may have been in my day a furtive finger or two fumbling in a furry fanny might now be a pushing, pulsating penis penetrating a private place promised as the preserve for privileged people.

Perhaps I should ask him I ruminated standing over the sink in his bathroom?

I knew that I had to let him make love to me but strangely it no longer seemed as important to me. Most of the excitement and anticipation that had pervaded me since I entered his house had now gone. Sure there was a little tingling but not the rush of feelings I had had previously. I showered and wrapped a large towel round me and returned to the bedroom where he was laying on the bed a sheet covering him. I climbed in again apologising for what had happened, but he just shrugged that off and was very understanding. 

We cuddled up together and gradually started doing all the things that a naked man and woman do when in bed together. He became hard again and I held that and stroked it. He caressed my breasts, quite nicely and then kissed them. We pressed our bodies together and we kissed at length and yes I became a little aroused. But not that much. That disturbed me. I should be begging him for it shouldn't I? The first time for all that time and here I was wondering what Emma was doing and glancing at the clock to see whether I'd missed the ten o'clock news. Not really the domain I thought of the modern woman. Where's the tigress gone? Where's the rampant frustrated sexual goddess ready to give and take every sexual favour? I couldn't find her.

But nevertheless he was laying on me, his length was against my pubis, my thighs opened and he slid down so that the tip of that blood engorged tower was pressing against the velvety, also blood engorged lips of that tunnel of love that we keep there for special occasions. He was grunting and sighing as his hips pushed forward. As indeed I was as for the first time in over a year I was penetrated. He was in me, up me filling me. I was being fucked I thought wondering who was presenting the news tonight. A few minutes of, what I thought were, relatively expert thrusting and he was telling me that he was nearing his ejaculation. I'd better join in I thought throwing my body around a bit and gasping and sighing as for the first time in my life I feigned an orgasm. I think I must have a natural talent for it as he was so pleased that he had made me cum and that we had climaxed together.




The New Woman in The Office



Morgan's been working with us for about a week. I didn't know whether it was just my feeling or whether she had a real glint in her eyes for me.

She'd certainly been very friendly and helpful. All the other guys thought so too. But there was an incident one morning that made me think that maybe there was a little something special for me. 

I was explaining some papers to her. She stood close beside me to see more clearly. For a short while, a mere moment or two, her breast pressed against my arm, a sort of natural thing when looking over someone's shoulder. I wouldn't have noticed but for the tremor that ran through her. I forget what we talked about. My mind has filled with the memory of that brief pressure and shiver.

Later that morning, at the water cooler naturally, we got talking about books — we'd both just read "Captain Corelli's Mandolin". 

"Hey," I said brazenly, "You free for a drink at five? We got no time now to talk books."

"I guess I could be," she said, lowering her eyes.

We met in a quiet bar, where there was little risk of people we knew seeing us.

After the first drink, with nervous conversational rallies, the mutual sexual interest in each other became clear to each of us — but remained unspoken.

I got bold again. "My apartment isn't far from here; what say you come back and I find us a bit of a snack with a healthy red wine?"

"Sounds good to me."

In the apartment we ate a little, talked a lot and relaxed pleasantly with the alcohol.

* * * * *

Let's move to "You" and "Me" it's more intimate!

* * * * *

We're now sitting on the couch, still sipping our wine. I gently put my hand on your thigh, making a point in conversation (but in reality making the first overt sexual move); you shiver. Like last time, not with cold. 

I feel the fastenings of your stockings under your skirt. Ah! Well! we both know why we're here. Bolder, I move my hand idly down to your knee as if tracing a thought as I speak. The thought is clear. I feel the slick texture of your stocking, slowly beginning work my fingers under your skirt.

We look at each other, simultaneously putting our glasses down. 

I put my arm across your shoulders and you turn to me, lips parting as mine approach for a tight kissing, tongue-searching embrace.

My free hand finds a round, warm breast. I squeeze lightly and quickly find the peak. I run my fingernails over the fabric of your dress creating a micro-vibration on your nipple. I sense sexual gratification is on its way. My cock knows too and strains to get to work. 

I drop my hand back to your lap for further exploration. Wordlessly you encourage me by your body language. I push back your skirt to undo the catches of your stockings. 

We slowly unwind from the embrace.

With a tremor of excitement I carefully roll one stocking off. I kiss along your leg from knee to foot then, with more kisses make my way back up near the join of your thighs. I do this slowly for the other leg. I am painfully erect.

Your panties hide the precious area of your sex. But I can see a darker moist patch, as you lie there with parted legs.

I stroke my fingers along the silky bare skin of your inner thighs. Your eyes have a softness, responding to your hormones. You shift a little, parting your legs further. I stroke the fabric over your mound. I hook a finger inside the edge and pull the covering aside. My ears are buzzing, my breathing has almost stopped as I get closer to nature's garden and the petals of your perfect flower.

I feel moisture seeping from the seam of your swollen lips; I press; they part as a ripe peach and my fingers probe your wetness.

Dry of mouth, I stand. I unzip; drop pants and shorts. I pull aside the panties again and with your help slide my cock into you. The rolled wet edge of your underwear rubbing against me — an added stimulus that stiffens my cock further as I start to make love to you. You raise your hips to meet me with a throaty cry. It's such an extreme and sudden longing that neither us is waiting; we engage in the dance of life for a few moment of eternity. I feel your climax grip me, immediately I shooting my viscous essence deep inside you. Gasping, kissing, caressing; smiling, licking, playing, stroking, sighing we slow the motion as satisfaction comes over us and our breathing quietly returns.

We sleep for a short while — only a few minutes I think. I wake; your head on my shoulder, I have an arm round you; the other rests on your hip. My thigh is held between yours; I can feel the sticky damp touch of your sex lips kissing my leg.

I lead you to the bedroom. We remove the rest of our clothes and again lie clasped together.

I kiss your cheek. You kiss my neck and turn your parted lips to me and murmur. We kiss, our tongues touch and begin another slow dance together. I feel my penis swelling again — so do you; you move your hand from my shoulder to stroke me to full glory. You pull forward, the foreskin closes over; you push away and the purplish-pink head stands out. You move your pelvis and I feel the wetness of your bare cunt — my semen and your moisture — spreading over my leg. I find your breast, your nipple is relaxed, warm and soft with sleep. I pull and roll it in my fingers; it firms. Your hand continues to ply up and down my cock, alternately covering and showing its dark pink blunt head. Keeping contact you trace along its length, feeling the ridge on the underside and following it back to the crinkled purse of my balls. You weigh them in your hand then, with a tender rolling motion stroke and caress them, feel their outline. I become more rigid.

Lying on the cool sheets, I nuzzle your throat, creating with my tongue a trail to your ear, where I softly explore behind and around. You quiver with delight. The taste of your body enthralls me. I cannot have enough. I want to taste all your skin. I start to lick and nibble my way down your body. I lift your arms to dip into the hollows, breathing the hint of perspiration in the damp, tasting the slight saltiness. I take each nipple sucking it to tender hardness. I take part of your breast, under your nipple, between my teeth starting a lovebite, a secret mark of our loving passion. I want the world to see we are lovers, but hesitate to leave a hickey on your neck. You have no such fears and fasten your lips to me drawing in, biting a small amount of the skin below my ear.

We are breathing quickly, passionately. I am painfully hard again. There is urgency, yet I want to prolong the pleasure of preparation. I become desperate to slide my fingers into you. I stretch to seek the path to love; your bud-like clitoris is once again standing proud.

You turn me on my back and mount me sixty-nine.

You take my penis; by drawing the foreskin down you cause me to stand even larger, the head well exposed, your lips and tongue work at it as if candy. I am deeply embedded in your loving mouth. I hold your hips and pull you back to me. You are wide apart and I push my tongue into your pussy; tasting my semen and your own moisture, drawing it up to lay it at the tight pucker of your ass. Pointing my tongue I try to penetrate you.

I run my fingers along the wet path to your clit. It is sensitive — I feel you react as I touch, so I press gently on one side. As I am attending your silky wet pussy and surrounds you are doing something I've never experienced. You have nibbled along my cock to suck one of my balls into your mouth. It's strange and exciting to have a lovely woman do something like that for the first time. I loved it when you were just rolling my balls in your hand, but this is real cock stiffening stuff. Especially as, while you do it, your fingers are stroking, teasing my shaft, keeping it on full alert.

We change positions again. You on your back, knees drawn up, thighs parted, open, waiting for me to enter. I do. Then we begin to fuck slowly.

Penetrating and retreating; each time, each way, back and forth, I continue to press against your tender clit. Your feet on my shoulders, I have my hands under your buttocks; squeezing those taut muscular hemispheres. My fingers roam to the center, I feel wetness running down; I stroke the trickle towards the small pink knot of your rose, playing at its center. All the while you are pushing your pelvis up to meet my thrusts. 

I take your left ankle and guide it over my head. After some more moves we are in the classic rear entry position — without having withdrawn

Kneeling I put my arms around you to feel those lovely breasts. With one hand I reach down your belly towards your bare mound, looking for your clit. Finding it hard and swollen with desire, I stroke it firmly in time with my thrusts. I sense, I know, there is plenty of my semen for another climax.

Touching your clit sets off the approach to another orgasm; as it comes closer your vagina tightens. I continue to thrust as deeply as possible, withdrawing almost completely, then back again deeply. You climax with firm hard spasms that hold me, suck me, pulsing in you. 

You slide flat on the bed and I remain in you for a while, still enjoying the power of my erection and the pleasure of sex. A wonderful state; in a way I'm satisfied — I came a little while ago, and now I've embarked on another journey towards climax. But it is a journey that may be prolonged, there's no hurry to arrive, I want to enjoy the ride.

I withdraw, nudging you onto your back again. Almost as a reflex you bring up your knees and draw me between your parted thighs. I enter you again and reach beneath, feeling for the flower of your ass. There is a pool of cum still there; I tentatively ease my finger into the center. You lift inviting further entry; my finger enters more. I slowly start a fingerfuck in your ass. You begin pelvic thrusts taking my cock deep into your vagina. I feel the tip of your cervix.

I withdraw from your pussy and let my penis slide back to your ass. I've pulled out my finger. I take hold of my slippery cock pressing its tip to your ass. And gently push. Your flesh yields a little as cockhead begins to enter. You move up, I go a little deeper. I pull out to collect more lubrication then, guiding again with my hand, press to your entrance; admittance is easier. With a steady, slow advance and retreat we manage to slide my length into your ass. Your clit is pressed hard against my pubic bone, caressed by the rough hair. I press my body against you trying to give your clit pleasure as I begin the climb to the peak on this journey.

We groan and shout as the next great climax hits. I feel your pulsing. Your legs clasp me tight. My balls are crimped in their sack. I release another stream, spurt by spurt. I kiss your mouth. I kiss your nipples. Hug you tight. Brush wet strands of hair from your face. Caress you. We hold each other returning to the real world.



The New Woman



Not a bad night's' work I thought later at home in my own bed. Not bad but not great for certainly the sex had, at best, been confusing, and was not the blisteringly fantastic experience I had expected on my return to being a player of that game. Ah well always next time I smiled as I slid off to sleep after my first date as a single woman.

In the three months or so of our affair the sex did get better. Not a lot but better than that first time. With me not wanting to introduce Emma to my date we settled into a routine. We'd usually meet for lunch once a week occasionally then going to his house or my flat and spending a couple of hours in bed. Alternatively he wouldd cook me dinner and we'd have a repeat of the first time. Not, I hasten to add, with me cumming quite so quickly although, I have to admit, more orgasms were faked than were real. I became quite adept at doing that I suppose.

But there was no real fizz in it and slowly, as his kids came home for the summer holidays the relationship just fizzled out and ended.

Madly mixing metaphors, it never rains but it pours doesn't it? And like London buses none for ages then three at once. Suddenly after a three month barren patch it was suddenly raining men for Monica.

There was Tom an Art Director at one of the agencies I worked for. I'd known him for some time, not that well and certainly not intimately, but on terms that were close enough for us to chat easily. 

There was Stuart, a lawyer I met at a dinner party and there was Gordon a fifty year old Mancunian, self-made man I met while on a golfing holiday with seven other women in Spain.

Tom and I sat next to each other at an awards lunch and ended up in his bed that evening. Peter and I went on several dates before gradually getting round to it and Gordon had his hand up my skirt and my tits out on a lounger round the hotel pool at two o'clock in the morning. Quite a varied lot really.

The awards ceremony was at the Savoy. All rather grand and all crushingly boring but I'd written some copy for an ad that he had designed and we were nominated so we had to be there. Fortunately the client could not make it so we were able to overindulge in the free booze and by the time the room was darkened and the presentations started, we did not win, we were both a bit tipsy. He pulled his chair closer to mine as many of the others on the round table turned theirs towards the stage. We laughed a lot taking the piss out of some of the ads and I felt his arm go round the back of my chair and his fingers rest on my shoulder.

"And what Mr Mason, do you think you're doing?" I asked.

"Actually Ms Prescott trying to get into your knickers."

"Well as you know better men at your agency have tried and better men have failed," I replied jokingly. Such banter wasn't that unusual between the male and female staff in the ad industry where PC had not seemed to have arrived.

"Yes but they haven't been close up to you when you're tipsy and just gagging for it have they?" 

I quipped back. "Who says I'm half tipsy?"

"Well OK pissed then," he retorted clearly realising that I hadn't rejected the 'gagging for it' remark.

As the ceremony droned on so I felt his hand softly rubbing my shoulder. As we got nearer to our section so his leg pressed against mine. As we both drank more wine so his foot ran up and down my calf and as we realised we hadn't won so I felt his hand on my leg.

"Oh well that's that then," he muttered leaning over so that his mouth was close to my ear. "We might as well go and fuck hadn't we?" In my slightly, well fairly to be truthful, pissed state and with me now trying to be the sophisticated sexual predator of the twenty first century it seemed sort of cool really to say.

"Yeah I guess we should I suppose."

So we did. Twice actually later that afternoon. And it was good. Neither of us was in that fit a state for sexual acrobatics so both times were leisurely and probably not that expert but they were fun. 

Until Tom I'd never really looked on sex as being fun. But with him it always was. .He didn't take anything serious so why should he with sex was his belief. So for a two or three month period, when he introduced me to smoking marijuana again after what must have been a fifteen or sixteen year absence, we had fun as we had sex. We smoked, drank and laughed our way through a series of premature ejaculations, a number of 'oh fuck it I can't get it up' and some absolutely monumentally mind blowing sessions. 

At the same time Stuart, the lawyer, who I had met dog walking was pulling me. Slowly and methodically as his legal training prompted him he did everything absolutely properly. 

The first date all friendly and diplomatic and a peck on the cheek as we said goodbye. The second, dinner, a little more romantic and talk of a more intimate nature followed by a lips on lips kiss in the cab on the way home. No thought on either part though of coming in for coffee, no not on a second date that wouldn't be right. It was on the third, though as was a full on kiss and tongues in the other's mouth. Up top only on the third date as he enquiringly at first touched my breasts. Finding only the appropriate level of resistance he persevered as we sat in his flat and over what must have been an hour he undid a couple of buttons on my blouse. It took probably another twenty minutes for him to get his fingers inside my bra and another ten or so before he yanked each boob out from its restraining cup.

Being the demure and modest lady I felt he wanted me to be, after he had played with them for a while not, of course going so far as to suck my nipples even though that was exactly what I wanted him to do, I put my toys away and went home an intact and well behaved lady. 

As I got more into dating I worked out that the fourth or fifth date is the watershed. It's the one where you have both got to know each other quite well, where inhibitions have gone a bit and both parties are quite comfortable with each other. So when he also suggested 'come round and I'll cook you dinner' for our fourth date I assumed that this would be where the heat would be turned up. 

As I rode over to his place by cab I recalled the old schoolgirl dating protocol of only up top for the first few dates and no up the skirt until at least the fourth or fifth! I was quite pleased that I wasn't wearing trousers this time!

Out of his pinstripe suit and white button down shirt Stuart was a different man. Once he threw off the uniform and restrictions of his profession and training he changed completely. When naked he was Godlike. I could hardly believe that the man who had been so diplomatically dating me could be so awesome in bed. He was an amazing lover. Quite the most technically adept I'd ever been with.

After the meal we'd sat together on the sofa and he took up from where he'd left off last time. Remember that? Bra still on, but tits out yet no sucking or nipple chewing. Of course this time there was that. That and so much more. I'd never had a man pay such homage to my breasts before.

He'd undone the buttons on my blouse, gone through the cursory entry level of caressing me outside my bra before again getting them out. This time though he leaned behind me and undid my bra. I like that feeling as the restriction of the tight elastic is removed. I like the sensation as the cups are eased away from the mounds. And I enjoy the look on a lover's, well a potential lover in this case, face when he looks at them for the first time. 

I am a little bit arrogant about my tits. I know they're not bad at all. I know I've got a good rack and I know that many/most men are suckers for soft, yet pert, fairly full tits, especially when, like mine, they have prominent nipples and fully round areola. And Peter was no exception. Where he was different, though, was the time he took playing with them and what he did to me by doing that. He must have licked and kissed every single square millimetre of them at least once and for an age. He must have sucked and chewed each of my nipples for longer than News at Ten lasts and he stroked each of the orbs until I was in fear that he would rub them away. One way of losing a little weight I guess. 

So, naked above the waist, skirt pushed up to mid-thigh my breasts being lengthily stimulated by this amazingly patient man, what did I do? Unusually for me I did just lay back and enjoy it. He was so in charge and was so systematically directing proceedings it didn't seem right for me to interject. Sure I kissed him back when appropriate and I did undo a couple of buttons on his shirt and yes I felt his, quite impressive, length through his trousers, but not much more. My part seemed fairly well defined and that was to be his plaything. So plaything I became.

And boy did he play. Although his concentration was on my boobs, and wonderfully so I must say, there was the occasional fingers sliding along my thighs and now and then the lightest touch on my panty covered pussy. As I tended to jerk when he did that, well girls do don't they, he would then apply a little more pressure right there. Right where I wanted that pressure. Right where all females love that pressure. Yes right alongside my clit that, unlike many men, he seemed to find so easily. Usually as he did that he was sucking, quite noisily in fact, on a nipple or licking the softer flesh of one of my tits. The combination of being strongly stimulated in two places at once had the inevitable effect on me. Yes I climaxed, twice for sure and maybe three times on that sofa. 

It wasn't anything like it had been with Peter where I embarrassed myself by cumming far too early. No, with Stuart, my climaxes were an essential part of the sexual foreplay as he saw it. It was almost as if it was my duty to cum. And being a dutiful girl I did, willingly and explosively with his hand between my legs and his mouth on my tits.

But that was just the start. As I lay on the sofa in my mellow, post orgasmic state he stood up and not taking his eyes from mine for a moment he undressed. And as I said out of his pinstripes he was Godlike. He had an almost perfect body, at least to my eyes. Tall and slim without an ounce of unnecessary flesh he obviously looked after his body in the methodical way he did everything else including me. Lightly tanned with a covering of hair on his chest he had an absolutely flat six pack and a beautifully long and smooth uncircumcised cock that reared up from a thatch of golden pubes tinged with splashes of grey. Totally unselfconscious about his nudity, unlike many men he picked me up and carried me to his bedroom. 

You'll notice that I'm not including much dialogue and that's because we hardly talked throughout the entire episode. But then the way that Stuart made love didn't programme in talking.

Sitting on the bed with me standing next to him he slid my skirt up. He did make a noise then by sighing deeply as he looked at the pretty white knickers I was wearing, without tights or stockings for the weather was still warm and my legs still had the tan from my Italian holiday. Slowly moving the fingers of one hand in little circles right on my clit he eased the back of my panties down with the other. Eventually getting them down my thighs he took them and then my skirt off.

At last I got to lie on the bed and was thinking that now we'd fuck. Wrong. Oh no. No it wasn't time in his programme for that. No this was the time for the beneath the waist foreplay. I won't bore you with the tedious details, for we then had another hour or so of him attending to every part of my lower body. Strangely, though, only with his hands and not once did he use his tongue or mouth on my pussy. But the intensity and, I have to say gentleness and expertise, with which he inflamed my lips both inside and out continued on my clit and all around my bottom made me cum again. 

His lovemaking though quite expert and very giving was sort of mechanistic and so bloody drawn out. It was as though he could give for ever but not want anything in return. As though he took all I had but never really revealed anything about himself. Even when, eventually, he did fuck me it was as if he were programmed. He did everything correctly, he took his time, he combined long and short thrusts and fast and slow ones but not once did he let himself go. No loud moans or words. It was like being fucked by a machine. True a powerful and very efficient one but still a machine. A fucking machine actually.

So in my raining men period I had one guy where it was all fun and another where it was mechanistic. 

On the golf trip to Spain I found one in the middle

I was in Spain with seven other women of varying ages on a golf trip. Five rounds in seven days staying in a great hotel right on a golf course. It was a popular place for groups of particularly English golfers to go and the place was full. What more could eight female golfers want? Great golf, sun, a smashing hotel, good food and wine and a hotel full of men!!

We'd been chatted up quite a lot for we were very much in the minority amongst the, mainly, male golfers. Around the pool, on the course and at the clubs and restaurants we visited in the evenings. A couple of the girls had got off with guys and, funnily enough they were both married. Us single women seemed more reticent but, what the hell, the old golf maxim of "what happens on tour stays on tour" would be strictly enforced, wouldn't it?

It was our last night. We were leaving the next afternoon and we'd decided to eat in the hotel restaurant. That day we'd accepted an invitation from a group of guys to play mixed golf and I'd been paired up with Gordon. He was a sturdy man with strong looking arms and he hit the ball miles. A bit wayward but a fair golfer even though his handicap was higher than mine. Nice to shove that at the men, I'm fifteen!

He was from Manchester and as we wandered round the course he told me that he owned a business that manufactured something that I never quite understood. He was supposedly separated from his wife and three kids and lived in Cheshire just south of the city. We got on well. He had a good sense of humour didn't take himself too seriously and flirted with me in a friendly and challenging manner. He had a quick mind and I admired his thoughtful phrasing even though he made it quite obvious that he was available if I wanted him. Nearly five hours of golf and talking and you get to know someone pretty well. And overall I quite liked what I got to know.

Although my affair with Stuart was on the wane that with Tom was still wafting along on a cloud of smoke, booze and laughter but was going nowhere. So was I on the lookout, I wondered that evening getting ready for dinner, for a Stuart replacement?

I didn't give it that much thought but I did find myself dressing in underwear that would look good to be undressed in. Daft and a little lacking in moral fibre, but then hey I'm single and free aren't I? And of course I'm now a woman of the 21st Century and if I want a quick fuck tonight why not?

It didn't come to that. Not quite. It could have easily. It was there for me to take if I wanted but I didn't

After the dinner there was a dance in the disco and Gordon made a beeline for me.

"Looks as if Monica's pulled," one of the girls remarked as he pulled me onto the dance-floor a third time.

As the disco closed with a slow, smoochy number so I was in Gordon's arms pressed fairly tightly to him. It felt nice. It felt warm and comforting being in his arms. And I felt nice. Very mellow and satisfied, a little tipsy, quite receptive and close to him. I was absolutely primed I imagine for him to make his move on me.

Grabbing a full bottle of white wine and two glasses he took me by the arm and said,

"Come on let's go for a walk."

His authoritative and commanding manner sort of impressed me and didn't think for one moment of saying no.

We wandered around the hotel and into the extensive ground, across the large pool area and onto a narrow pebbly path that ran alongside the beach. He was telling me about his business at first and then we chatted about golf and I told him a little about my life. We'd been walking for ten minutes or so away from the hotel and we'd reached what was a public beach area with loungers spread out over it. It was dark and very secluded.

"You really are a stunning woman Monica," he told me stopping and turning towards me.

I never know what to say when complimented like that so I usually smile and say. "Thank you," as I did to him.

"And on top of that an intelligent one and a great golfer," he went on smiling but also playing to my weakness of being told I'm intelligent. I like that. I like to be admired for that more than I do my looks although being admired for my tits does run my mind a close second.

It was all becoming a bit messy. Here was I on the one hand acting like an out of control nympho getting laid regularly with a changing rota of men yet on the other I was trying to fulfil my duties as a mum. Logistically and physically I could just about make it work and, in any case, I've always enjoyed sex in the afternoons, there's something so splendidly sordid about it isn't there? 

It was the emotional bit I couldn't hack so well. The lies to my daughter. The recall when she came home from school that just previously her loving, caring mum had been in bed with a man her legs wrapped round him as he took her to heights of sexual joy and pleasure. The memory when she came home one morning that the previous night I'd had sex with Gordon on the very sofa on which she was sitting. And the guilt. I simply felt guilty about the loose way I acted. The way that I'd gone with Gordon so easily on that beach and the way that I went with Mike in his car. Oh I haven't told you that yet have I? Should I? Do you want more of the same tedious details of my descent into what I was becoming to think of as a pretty decadent life-style?

No we'll skip that for a while and I'll tell you about Brad. He was my escapade into the world of toy boys.

I'd hurt my back playing tennis and went to a local physio. Just my luck, good or bad I'll leave you to judge, to be treated by a twenty five year old Aussie hunk! 

As I lay on his massage table and he massaged my legs I just can't tell you of the erotic thoughts I had. Each time his strong hands slithered up my oiled thighs I imagined them on one sweep not stopping. I almost felt them continuing upwards. It was as though he was really pushing them further. Further so they went right onto my pussy. They didn't, of course and he was impeccably behaved.

But at home on the nights when I'd visited him. They didn't stop. No as I lay alone in my bed naked they went all the way. And as my fingers found the place I imagined his going to, in my mind it was his hand on my wetness. His fingers entering me and it was him, not me, that brought on my climaxes.

So after having had him make finger love to me so many times in my mind I guess I was primed for him when he asked me out for a drink.

His body was like images that are secreted away in the dim recesses of my memory. It was so firm. So lithe and wiry. It was smooth and felt incredible up against me that first time we made love. And that first time was quite amazing, well to me it was, being used to having sex with older men for so long. 

I had never been fucked four times in an evening. In fact I'd never been fucked more than twice. But with the stamina that prior to him I could only dream about or read of in erotic novels he seemed to be ready again so quickly that I'd hardly come down from one orgasm when he was sending me up the wall of another.

It wasn't like a proper affair largely, I have to admit with a degree of disappointment about myself, because I didn't feel that comfortable being out with him. Being in though was different so we spent most of our dates in bed in his small flat in East London. Not that frequent perhaps once a fortnight for a few months we would meet, sometimes, but not often have a drink, then go to bed. As simple as that. It was purely the sex. There was nothing else. Of course I liked him but I saw no future or anything else in him other than his amazing stamina and fabulous cock. 




The New Woman



And that did sort of disgust me. That I was seeing a man purely for his sexual prowess did make me sit up and think. Not at first for then I was like a bitch in heat for him. I couldn't get enough of his body. I lusted after him continuously. I'd never been with anyone like him. Anyone that could give me so much in such a short time. But afterwards I felt bad. Not that he might have fucked me three times the previous evening for that overall made me feel good although I was by then having rather worrying moral attacks. 

I was concerned at what I was becoming and at my appetite for sex. I was worried that if I didn't either settle down with one guy or find something else that I would end up sleeping my way through the entire male population. 

Morals had never been a topic that I'd thought much about. After all when happily married to a man with whom one assumes she'll spend the rest of her life there's not much need. During the happy times of my marriage, say the first eight years, I never even thought about another man sexually let alone did anything. So moral rectitude came easily and naturally. It was then quite a shock to suddenly realise that I was on the looser side of average in my attitudes.

Not just to having sex with a variety of men, but also the frequency and increasingly also the locations. Gordon had been a prime example of that and Steve was another.

I had known him for some time through the golf club and then he asked me out. We had lunch and dinner and then we were playing together in a match some way away from both of our homes. On the dates we had kissed and he had briefly touched my breasts but we had not by then, gone any further. I had assumed that shortly we would but the opportunity just had not arisen.

After the dinner and we had said our goodbyes he was going to give me a lift to my car that I had left at a service station on the M25. He lived in a completely different direction to me from that station. In the car he didn't start the engine but instead turned to me and after sliding his arm along my seat leaned across and kissed me. I responded. He kissed me deeper and I responded deeper.

"Oh shit Monica I so want you," he muttered his hand going to my breast.

"Oh," was all I could think of saying as his fingers squeezed me.

We kissed again and he started undoing my top. Alright it was dark outside but for Christ's sake it was a golf club car park and you know what sticklers they are for proper dress code. And being topless in their car park certainly wouldn't qualify.

"No Steve, no," I said holding his wrist before uttering those words that are so easy to misconstrue. "Not here."

"OK," was all he said starting the engine before adding. "It's too late for a hotel so we'll just have to find somewhere else won't we?"

"What in the car?"

"Yes why not?"

"I need you badly and you do want me don't you"

"Yes," I whimpered partly frightened at the idea and partly hugely excited by it.

He found a place in a wood where we could park but would be able to see any other car if it approached. And then on the back seat of his huge Mercedes by the light from the dashboard I started to have sex in a car for the first time since my teens.

At first I wanted to keep my clothes on but take my panties and bra off. That seemed a sensible precaution should we be disturbed. But it didn't happen like that. The more we kissed and he touched me so the more appealing and exciting the notion of being naked became. Not just being naked but also being outside the car, well it was July.

And that was my next step in the direction of debasing myself and in self-disgust. I let him fuck me with both of us naked and me lying across the bonnet of his car.

So that was those two fucking years. There were a couple more men but what I've described are the main events.

In the end I could do it no more. The hassle the self-analysis the pretence to Emma and the after-feelings of disgust with myself became too much. I was finding that sex without any emotional involvement was unrewarding. And I just couldn't let myself become emotionally involved for fear of again becoming dependent on a man. The classic Catch 22.

So once more, as I had during the first year after parting, I chose celibacy. And that is how am now and those fucking years are just a dim and distant memory.



The New Workout Program



The New Workout Program (or How I Bartered Sex To Get Into Shape)

Sometime last year, just prior to my 52nd year on the planet, I finally got fed up with my excess weight and came to terms with the fact that I need to go to some extreme in order to lose it. Surgery wasn't an option. The simple fact was that I could not get myself motivated to stay on a regimen and my mate wasn't helping any. I knew I had to get away from the desk and do something active. I needed to take the reins and find my "carrot!" 

Of course, I knew what my 'carrot' was. It was sex. Sex is something that I have enjoyed since my first affair (I was 16, he -- 36) and discovered my abundant libido. Though, once I reached 50 I truly thought that my libido would chill, especially with the beginnings of Menopause. But my body had more fun in store for me and over the last three years I was making the most of working at home by meeting men online. A few, I met on Yahoo's Instant Messenger, a few sent me fan mail after reading my erotica. I now had almost 10 men that I could call on when I needed great sex -- virtual or live. So, I figured, why not post an ad on Craigslist? I've always subscribed to the belief that if you really want something to happen, you have to put it out into the universe and that the universe will support me. And that just what I did!

I must have composed the ad in my head for months before getting up the nerve to post it. It was Sunday morning, I was still waking up having slept in a little when I opened my laptop and began putting words to page. The fact that it was Valentine's Day seemed to be a good timing. I placed it in the local Personals under "Casual Encounters." For some reason, it didn't "take" the first time, so I posted it again. After checking my "x-rated" email account over the next day, it started filling up with replies. And they continued to pour in; almost 50 with the first posting. Then suddenly, it was pulled! I was shocked that someone had "flagged" my post. I mean, how absurd! Mine was one of the few "Real Ads," not commercial, not resulting in SPAM, just a real ad. I posted it again for good measure. It was flagged again. But by then I had enough to keep me plenty busy responding to half of those who replied. 

The ad:

"Sexy FWB looking for workout partner to trade with - w4m

This is a serious offer so pls don't reply unless you meet the following criteria: 

* Must be happy & healthy (no STDs or drama). 

* Must have some experience with personal training or safe workouts with gym equipment. (non-professional = OK). 

* Must be well-endowed (above avg in length or girth). 

* Must be easy going, but firm & willing to take charge. 

* Be friendly, fun, passionate, expressive, confident, caring and strong. 

* Please be of athletic build, between 39-48, good stamina and healthy libido. Orally gifted gets huge points! 

* Must be available during weekdays. We'll work out details, but I can usually host. 

About me: 

Highly motivated, healthy 50yr old woman with very high libido in LTR (so must be discreet). I work at home with access to small but adequate gym in complex. 

My goals: 1. Have fun! 2. Lose weight while getting in shape 3. Enjoy each other at least 3 x week. I'm a very experienced & generous, voluptuous, BBW with dangerous curves. 

Send reply with why you think you'd be the best Personal Trainer for me (*be detailed, explicit) and include pics (pls include head shot that shows your eyes!) Other head, good too! 

And yes, those are real and all mine!" (I attached a photo of my voluptuous breasts!)

I had to narrow down the list of possible trainers and chose to reply first to those who best followed my requests and fit the criteria. I choose the guys who wrote something back to me and then went through the photos in order to break out about 10 to check out. I also deleted a few that were younger than I had specified or just goofy, too tough looking or not my type (whatever that is?)!

An email frenzy quickly ensued. It started to get confusing; too many guys named Mark, none of their email addresses had their real names, and the sheer volume resulted in my need to start keeping notes. 

The First Candidate

A financial planner named Mark was the first to pursue me stridently. I befriended him on Yahoo IM and we chatted that night. We made tentative plans to meet on Tuesday and I gave him my phone number. He emailed me twice; late Sunday night and early Monday morning. Then he called me Tuesday morning and we made plans to workout around 1:00, when he would be coming back from an appointment up north. About a half hour later, he called back to say that he decided to reschedule his appointment so that we could get together earlier. He was definitely into this! 

When it rains, it usually pours, at least down here in South Florida! Just after I let Mark go, I saw that my newest lover Michael was online and to my delight, informed me that he could come by around 12-Noon. I quickly emailed Mark and told him that 1PM was still good!

Now Michael & I have been IM'ing and emailing for almost a year, trying to hook up but since he works his ass off and has little free time, he had proven to be quite illusive. I had almost given up on him twice, but my intuition told me that something about this guy was special and that I should pursue it/him. I'm so glad I did because he is an amazing lover. Quite possibly the best love I've ever know (and I've know quite a few!). He's cute too! Slightly taller than I, with very short hair, like he shaved his head last week - short. Seductively latte-colored skin, very Puerto Rican, from New York. His accent is cute too. He has the best tongue ever! I am simply, totally infatuated. After our first session, over a week ago, I knew that I wanted him again soon and often! 

Now here he was, once again. I sent him a text instructing him to let himself in and come to the bedroom to find me naked in bed. He did as instructed, appearing at my bedroom door dressed in baggie pants and tight t-shirt accentuating his massive pecks and powerful biceps. He climbed right up between my legs, kissing my thighs gently with his soft lips then sitting up over me and unwrapping my pink satin robe, as if I was his Valentine's Day present! (I was!).

My hands slid down my belly to my crotch and I slowly parted my cunt lips for his viewing pleasure. That made him smile. Not one to waste time, he got right to it, sucking on one nipple, then the other. Mmmmm! His lips are so yummy. I quivered beneath him, soft moans slipping out between my own lips. Now he had me worked into a frenzy in record time. Then before even taking his clothes off, he slid down further between my legs and started his talented tongue working again on my overly excited clit. He licked and sucked, and shook his head deftly back and forth. A rush of emotion shot through me as I watched him there, giving me such pleasure. It had been so long since anyone had focused so much attention on my pleasure. I'm usually the expert at pleasuring, having studied it for a lifetime. And now I'd found a lover who could truly reciprocate. Wow! The Goddesses were truly smiling down on me. I was almost overcome with gratitude and instantly wanted to offer him the same. I reached down and began stroking his head, trying to lift it up. He stopped and asked me if I had come. 

"Well, er...no, not yet," I said, wondering if I could still reach orgasm this way. It had really been a while.

"Then, I want you to cum." 

That was it. He went on with his loving assault on my swollen clit for what seemed like a half hour, sending me into fit after fit of over-the-top sensation. I focused my attention, trying not to think about the usual: Will he get tired? Will he quit? Will I ever cum? Then, as if he read my mind, he began pinching my nipples, and that got me thinking that I might actually cum! He didn't give an inch, staying right with me, taking me higher and higher until it happened --I came. Loud! 

I was in an altered state. I thanked him profusely although I'm not sure that I was actually lucid! 

"It's been a verrrry-long time since anyone has made me cum that way!' I swooned. "That was awesome, simply amazing! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" 

I told him that I wanted him inside me. 

"Now! Please fuck me, Michael!" 

He complied and pulled his clothes off, mounted me, pulling my legs up, spreading them wide while I took a hold of his stiffening dick and slid it along my slippery slit and then lined him up so that he could penetrate my super-tight cunt. He had to push hard to get in there, but the look on his face was showed nothing but pleasure. And such intensity. He wanted me to cum again, as he pumped away. 

"Tell me again!" he asked. "Tell me you want me."

"Fuck me," I said. "Fuck me hard, baby. I want you so bad."

He did too. 

"Give it up again baby!" "Give it to me," he growled.

I wanted to, believe me. I moaned and gasped with each thrust and told him that I wanted to feel him cum. 

"I going to cum inside you," he warned me. "I'm gonna cum!" 

He was asking for permission and I replied with a tight squeeze of my cunt muscles and a gentle "Yes!"

"Yes," I told him, again. "I want to feel you fill me up, baby."

I urged him on and enjoyed the pounding he gave me, finally feeling him shoot inside me with multiple contractions. Then he relaxed and lay down on top of me. He lay there inside me for a while after as I stroked his tattooed shoulders and kissed his sweet lips. I offered him the shower which he took and watched him dress before leaving. I really enjoyed Michael. The day was beginning to show real promise and I had only an inkling of what the rest of the day would bring.

I showered after Michael left and got ready to go to the gym to work out with Mark. 

Mark - # 1:

He arrived just after 1PM and came up to the apartment dressed in white button-down shirt and dark gray slacks, black tie with a small pattern. Definitely business. He kissed me quick when he came in and we chatted for a while before he went back down to his car to get his workout bag so that he could change in my place. 

Mark is a young Latino guy who manages a financial planning office. I felt pretty comfortable with him but he was clearly nervous, talking very fast about a lot of stuff. After he changed clothes in my bathroom, we walked over to the gym and looked at all the machines and equipment. I chose the recumbent bike to warm up on and since the two machines next to me didn't work, Mark chose the elliptical behind me. We talked a bit while we warmed up, mostly about exercise and routines, diet, etc. He didn't lead much in the gym, just talked. So I used some leg machines, arm machines, did the ball squats, some dumbbell free weight exercises and then it was time to head back home. 

We had barely got in the door before he was kissing me in the hallway. I led him into the office and showed him something on the computer. We started undressing each other and I led him into the bedroom and onto the BIG bed. He played with me for a while, kissing me, fondling my cunt, then he got down to it and started licking me. His technique was a bit rushed and heavy-handed. But, he seemed to enjoy pleasuring me. After a few minutes, he took of his pants and I played with his cock a bit. He has a negative bend; his dick bends down and away, rather than towards him. It's kind of odd. Once he started fucking me, he became a fucking piston, thrusting hard and fast. That's fun for about 10 minutes, but he must have gone on for an hour! Hard pounding on and off for an hour! 

Damn, I thought, I'm gonna be sore, I know it. He was really working up a sweat too. Guess he got his work out after all! We changed positions for a while to give him a break. He wanted me on top. Then he got behind me and I pulled out my vibe and was able to cum again with him pounding me from behind. It's my favorite way to cum, next to Michael's tongue, of course! 

I've trained myself over the past few years, sans lovers, to cum with my mighty bullet vibe on my clit and a nice thick dildo inside me. Having his nice hard cock pounding relentlessly away, feeling his sack smack against my ass made my legs weak. The vibe did it's duty, bringing on my orgasm, strong and intense. I left it against my clit as I pushed back against his erection, panting and groaning, squirming and squeezing around him.

Then he kind of lost his erection so I offered to suck him. I asked him to wash it off and gave him the washcloth. Once he was back on the bed I started to lick him, running my tongue from his balls up his cock then taking it into my mouth and sucking softly as I slid it in and out, hoping to feel it go from flaccid to stiff. I quickly realized that he needed faster action than I was able to give him. I tried jerking him. He said that I could do it harder. I tried a combination of sucking him and jerking him at least until I started getting sore gums and lips. I jerked him harder and gave it all I had, until finally he came. It was a big load too and I did my best not to gag. I got up and rinsed and when I looked back he was jerking himself again! Damn, this guy wasn't done yet! He looked kinda nervous, but said he was ready again, when I asked him. He jerked until he was ready to cum and asked if I wanted it on my chest. I declined and he got between my legs to cum inside me but didn't quite make it in. Instead he came on my bush. 

I might give Mark another go, but I think he's too much work. Besides, I really didn't like his performance in the gym.

One down...20 to go!