0 comments/ 8448 views/ 4 favorites Mid-life Crisis Ch. 03 By: mandywilluk2000 Of course you can just read this story, but it might be better to read the other parts first. There's a lot of background in them! * Of course the affair ended. They nearly always do unless you get caught. As much as we thought we loved each other we just couldn't go to the next stage and leave our families. So by mutual agreement we finished it. I left my job and haven't seen or heard from him since, but that is best, it's what we agreed. I went back to copywriting for some of my old contacts and in some ways my life, on the surface at least, got back to being seemingly normal. My mid-life crisis was traumatic, but I coped. Ok it was with the help, or maybe the hindrance, I am still not sure which, of the affair. I strode on in my mid-forties with my head held high and my, sadly, slightly saggy tits pushed out. But I kept those very much to myself. As indeed I did the rest of my body. After my wild, totally sexual fling with Craig and my intense, hugely loving affair with Patrick, I didn't yearn for anything else. I had no desire to have one night stands and the 'offers' that women who belong to golf and tennis clubs and go to work, albeit occasionally in my case, simply didn't interest me. I don't have that high a need for sex that I would do anything that I don't feel particularly strongly about. Sounds pompous, I know, but I can take it or leave as far as sex is concerned other than in very special circumstances such as with Craig and Patrick. But then with both of them I wasn't able to gain real satisfaction from relationships that were based simply on sex. So as I struggled on without Patrick, I realised not much had changed. I was still over forty and divorced, my daughter was growing up, I was still bored and my tits still sagged a little. I am coming to the conclusion that the Hyde, or is it Jekyl, side of me comes out when I am going through life-style traumas. When something big is happening to me emotionally, I react in surprising ways. I had burst through the 'forty barrier' when Craig erupted and Patrick came about when I was agonising over my daughter, who we had agreed would go to a residential sixth form college, getting ready to leave me and that made me realise I would be completely alone. Obviously, being associated with writers and writing of one sort or another most of my life, I had often thought of writing myself. I had made several unsuccessful efforts at writing a novel, but had put that on the back burner as I got on with my, up until recently, quite busy life. With just my part time writing from home, my 'baby' about to go, no husband, lovers or affairs on the go, my life lost its busyness and in some ways its purpose. So I decided to start another novel. An idea had been rattling round my mind for some time about a story for a typical 'airport' book. Code named Savannah it was about an American woman whose family owned a cotton plantation in the 1850s. After marrying a gambler and living in London for several years she divorces and returns to run the plantation when her mother and father die. As the Civil War looms, an old friend from years back, who has made it big in the Union military intelligence asks her to gather information on what the Confederates are planning. So she becomes a Marta Hari of her time spying for both sides and using all of her womanly wiles to get the required information. As I wrote it I realised I was probably putting in far too much sex. It was intended to be a raunchy story, but it was turning into a highly erotic if not a pornographic one. I realised two things after I had written around fifty thousand words. Firstly, I would never publish it. I knew that I would never be able to stand the embarrassment of people reading some of the stuff I had composed, which was pretty extreme. And as to what Sara would say and my friends would think just wasn't worth even considering. Secondly, and in many ways more importantly, I realised just how much I was enjoying writing in general and erotica in particular. Several times as I had gone into some detail about a sexual adventure I had found that I was touching myself, undoing buttons and slipping my hands into my clothing. A few times I had masturbated as I visualised myself in those situations. It was fun, exciting, enjoyable, secret and no one was getting hurt. I wasn't that confident, though, of how to write raunchy stuff. I knew what appealed to me, but I wanted more information on what appealed to others. I googled 'erotic writing.' One name stood out, 'Literotica.' I went there and was absolutely amazed. There was so much on so many different topics. Apart from a quite natural lower age limit of eighteen, it seemed that pretty much anything goes on the site, it was exactly what I was after. It seemed to me that this was a natural bedfellow for me; a place where I could try out my writing, get other peoples' opinions, maybe hone my skills and find out what what appealed to other people. I spent hours a day for several days devouring loads of stories across a range of genres. Rather too many of them, regrettably, were not really to my taste for a number of reasons: too basic, lack of structure, story and 'message,' overly demeaning to women, unrealistic scenarios, poorly written and too quickly to the sex. That said, I found some that I enjoyed. I read such topics as spanking, mild bondage, incest, humiliation and bi sexual experiences by both men and women in which I had no realisation I would be interested. I was, though. One lesson I learned from my 'erotic readathon' was that one should not judge a sexual experience by its name, read about it and you will generally find some form of interest and pleasure. I did from so many different aspects of sexual reading, but I drew the line at animals, the use of bodily wastes and hard core S & M and the like. I also read lots of more 'normal' stuff between straight men and women, thoroughly enjoyed those and I did learn quite a lot of techniques that I now incorporate into my erotic writing. I now look back on those few days of reading as my 'mega wank fest,' for I seemed to be almost perpetually masturbating. I registered as an author and submitted a short story about a businesswoman who uses male escorts. The waiting after submitting it until it was published was agonising and made me feel very sympathetic to the many authors I had kept waiting. I felt great the day I read my first 'published' piece and I felt even better during the next week or so when I received quite a lot of generally positive feedback. I decided to write and submit another story. For some reason I registered again under another ID, I don't really know why, but I was worried about privacy and anybody recognising me. This time I chose to write about how a recently divorced woman in her late thirties comes to terms with single life and the renewal of dating after such a long time. That also generated a lot of feedback and gained high marks. It was getting to me, I was enjoying myself, I had found a new hobby, another interest, an outlet for my erotic needs, a different way of expressing my sexual desires and beliefs; the doctor or the mister were getting to me again! I was becoming more confident with my writing. I had always known that I can compose using accurate grammar and generally get my points across, but I didn't really know how others received my messages. The feedback told me that they were received well. It is said that art causes an emotional reaction in the viewer. If that's the case and if erections and masturbating are emotional reactions, then I must be quite some artist going on what a number of the feedback reported! At first, I found that difficult. It was strange to receive messages such as 'Reading your stuff gave me a permanent hard on,' 'I jacked off six times reading that story,' and 'I fucked my wife thinking about you.' I got used to it quickly, though! I registered again, this time with what has become my 'nom de plume' mandywilluk2000. I put more information on the bio section kindly provided by Lit and I included a photo. I also included an email address. I'd had what I thought was a great idea for a story. An affair, well more a fling, if there is a difference, between an older woman and a younger guy, yes memories of Craig. However, the theme of this story was vastly different to that with Craig and me as was the way it was related. In this story I was an aunt and my lover was my nephew. That meant that we were not just addressing the older woman, younger man situation, but also adding in the taboo of incest. Why, I have no idea, but I guess it seemed a good idea at the time. The other, what I thought was an interesting twist was that it was written from the perspectives of both parties. So a chapter would be written by the aunt and then one by the nephew. I hadn't really planned much about the story. I find my best stuff comes when I just write without thinking too much, just go with the flow. And that's what I did and I guess that's why I ended up with a fourteen part story! When Patrick and were having our affair I had not only bought a pay as you use mobile, but had also opened a yahoo email account. I had Outlook, both as part of the package on my laptop and PC, which were linked to a server at a customer's agency, and as an employee of Patrick's company. However, they were not secure enough for what Patrick and I sometimes needed to write to each other, hence yahoo. That was the address I put on Lit, but then forgot about it. That is until I read one of the feedback after a story had been published. In that the writer mentioned that he had sent something separate to my email. I logged in and was amazed when I saw that there were approaching fifty unopened emails. Replying to most of those gave me a new interest. It was a natural extension to writing on Literotica, I was entering into correspondence with 'my readers.' At first I would exchange views on my Lit submission and then on each other; hobbies, work, partner status and the like. As I progressed down that path many would drop by the wayside, largely because they had difficulty expressing themselves in writing. Some though survived and I developed some really interesting online relationships. As time went on they, obviously I suppose, became more focused on sexual matters. That was natural as it was one of those, my erotic submissions to Lit, which had caused the email relationship so start. We would discuss sexual matters very openly, including our likes and dislikes and our fantasies. I loved how open the net enabled us to be and how the anonymity encouraged online relationships to reach a stage of frankness so much more quickly than reality could ever permit. I'd been hesitant at first, but after a while I have to admit that I took to exchanging very frank stuff like a duck to water. With a couple of guys I started to role-play by each of us writing a part of a story, sending it to the other, adding some more and returning it and so on. That resulted in an exchange of mails that went on for several weeks and reached such levels of frankness that I found myself describing my orgasms in greater detail than I did on Lit. Those role-plays were gradually broadened and deepened and became stories. Generally they were written in the first person. Having 'got to know' a guy through email, perhaps even exchanging a photo or two, and then extending that written relationship into a role-play, or even more, a story was an amazingly exciting adventure for me. To write such phrases as 'When your cock sunk into me.........' and 'The feelings your fingers gave me as they slid deeply into my cunt......' were serious turn ons. It wasn't just the writing of erotic phrases it was the knowledge that my 'pen pal' would soon be reading them. I loved the thought of him doing that, getting hard because of my descriptions and then masturbating over what I had written. With a couple of guys we would exchange descriptions of what we did when we received each other's mails. Reading what they did and then writing what I did was so thrilling. Sometimes as I composed the emails, I would touch myself, undo buttons, slide a zip down and slowly undress. That had happened to me a few times when writing stories. Rarely did I complete a writing session, either for Lit or an email story, fully dressed. Almost as equally rarely did I finish one without masturbating, or at least trying to; like many women, sometimes making love to oneself just doesn't work. I found the most sublime pleasures from this. Feeling my body react to the words flooding my mind from either, what a 'friend' had written, usually about what he would like to be doing to me, or how I described what I would do to him or have him do to me, was amazing, in a way I guess almost like a religious experience. "Do you use messenger?" A simple question posed in an email from Matt, a 'friend' of some time, well a couple of weeks and that's an age on the net. Little was I to know just how well I was going to get to know yahoo messenger and what a part it was going to play in my life. At first I had no idea what he meant or what messenger was. He explained it and suggested I join 'It's a modern day chat room' he explained. Although I had no idea of either, what a modern or, an older day chat room was like I said I'd think about it, but immediately after ending the email I checked it out. I was excited by it and joined messenger, even submitting a photo, a slightly more 'raunchy' than the one on Lit. Matt was all the good things I look for in an email mate. Articulate, bright and quick minded with a self-deprecating way about him and a great sense of irony. He could write on most topics, was an avid golfer, had a worldly-wise approach to chat rooms and a wickedly naughty sense of humour. He was clearly up for anything on-line, but wasn't assumptive or overly pushy. We were soon exchanging views on a wide range of topics including, of course, those of an intimate and personal nature. He was married and, unlike most men I 'meet' in mail, claimed to love his wife. True, he said things were a little difficult at times, but he never pushed me to meet so I believed him when he wrote "I just like chatting to women." I believed him, for that was exactly what I most enjoyed, well with men mainly. It was also part of the reason I joined messenger and why I had been chatting to him for a couple of weeks. We got on too well really. We were so easily able nearly every time we 'talked' to turn the conversation to sex; easy, comfortable, relaxed, non-threatening, flirty sex-chat. Not heavy, come-on, demanding stuff, but nevertheless stuff we admitted turned us on. I'd explained earlier when we were talking about being aroused that I didn't cyber. I wasn't totally sure what that was exactly, but assumed it was masturbation by at least one if not both parties. Since starting with him I had chatted to a few other men, well quite a few really and I never could work out how they found me. Most, though, were after just one thing, not much difference to reality there then. "Don't or haven't?" he wrote back during an email exchange that had lasted for over an hour. "What?" "Cyber" was his one word reply "Both I guess," was my three word response" I replied feeling the need, as I so often did on there when with a man I liked, to be totally honest. I changed the subject and like the gentlemen, as many I'd met on the net were, he respected that and didn't mention it again, well not for some time that is. We'd been exchanging e-mails for some time. He wrote well. Not with classically good grammar, punctuation and spelling but with clear, "picture painting" descriptions and forceful narrative. I enjoyed reading his mails and, increasingly, I enjoyed composing for him. And of course from both of us the writing became steamier and steamier. He told me in wonderfully graphic, but not pornographic, explanations exactly what he'd like to do to me. As I read them I could imagine him doing them to me so clearly that they became my masturbation material. Just as my replies that described my feelings as he did those things to me, became his wankfest as he termed them. "Are you sure?" he typed. "Yes, yes I am." When we'd last spoke on a Friday we'd got very steamy. "God I so want to fuck you," he'd typed near the end of the session. This wasn't completely out of the character of our chats but was, probably a little more intense and direct than most. "Don't you feel it Mandy? Don't you feel that need?" "Right at this moment," I typed one-handed as I pinched my swollen nipple. "There's nothing in this world I want more than to be fucked Matt." "Fucked by me?" Smiling I teased him. "Fucked by anyone Matt, but especially by you." We both knew this was impossible for his wife was downstairs and my daughter was in the next room. "Really? Especially me." "Yes." "Do you really mean that?" "On here, yes I do." "Are you sure, are you positive about that?" We'd spoken about 'going all the way' several times, but either the time wasn't convenient, we just talked about it so much we talked ourselves out of it, or I backed out. This time, though, I meant it. I wanted to do it. I wanted to do it with him. With Matt, my electronic lover, my soon to be cyber-sex-partner. Yes I wanted to fuck myself for him. We rarely chatted at week-ends as it was difficult for both of us, but I received an email. "Just once more my darling, are you positive about this? Tell me "no" and there'll be absolutely no problem. Tell me "yes" and I'll be hard and rampant until we meet at noon on Monday." We'd ended our chat on the Friday making a date for Monday. And once we'd done that it did feel exactly like a date. The very special date that couples often make; the date when they are going to consummate their relationship; the date when all the awkward kissing, the fumbling and furtive gropings, the touches, caresses and strokings all come together; the date when they do go all the way, when at last they make love, finally have sex and fuck each other's brains out. That was the date we'd made for noon on Monday! I typed back. "Yes, yes, a million times yes. I want you." It was an odd weekend. I hadn't got much planned; some shopping on Saturday and a couple of girl-friends round for take away pizzas in the evening. Tennis on Sunday that I played so badly, followed by a snack at the club and home early for an evening's TV with my daughter. But it wasn't what I did that made it odd, it was how I felt. I did feel as if I was going on a real date, as if we'd agreed to make real love. As if Matt really was a new lover, a lover with whom my relationship had deepened to the point that we'd made this pact for Monday. All Saturday, more so Sunday and especially as I watched TV, alone as it happened for my daughter popped to a friend's to do some homework, I became more and more aroused. I was tempted to log onto messenger and maybe find someone with whom I could have some fun and maybe end up masturbating myself, but I didn't There was an, almost permanent, tingling in my tummy, a warmth that ebbed and flowed through me. An extra fullness and heaviness in my, already overly full, breasts and a pressure on my nipples that made them feel as if, at any moment, they could burst and let that fullness from each orb gush out. I'd washed my hair and showered. As my daughter and I often did on Sunday evenings, particularly in the winter, I'd slipped into a nighty and a dressing robe. The grey and white silk nighty was beautifully lacy, had a low neck and a slightly flared, mid-thigh length skirt. It was partly see through and clung to me above the waist. It wasn't really a nighty to sleep in, more one to be shagged in. The white robe was thin, but not silk. It was floor-length and had a tie round the waist. Sipping my second glass of wine it was the easiest thing in the world for the robe to fall open. The skirt part of it did that naturally, so that as I sat on the sofa my feet tucked under my bottom, my legs were bare. As I'd moved around getting the papers, pouring wine or changing channels so it was nearly as easy for the top to gape, for the two lapels to fall apart and for the deep cleavage the tight nighty created to come on view. Mid-life Crisis Ch. 03 "What will it be like?" I wondered, my mind continually thinking of tomorrow, almost forgetting it would be a virtual and not a real fuck. "Will I be able to do it, go through with it and finish myself off with him?" I asked myself. "Will I," it suddenly struck me like a charge of electricity, "be able to make myself cum as I chat to him? Will I be able to say and do the right things? Will I find the words to make love on-line? Will I be able to fuck myself to an orgasm as he tells me what he's doing? Or will I" I smiled "simply cum too quickly as I usually do with a new lover." I didn't know the answers for sure, but at that moment they didn't seem to matter too much. No, as the neckline of the nighty slid down beneath my breasts and as the lacy, silk skirt slid up my legs, tomorrow really did seem so much like another today. And as one of my hands found the soft fullness of my boobs and the hardened crinkleness of my nipples so the questions became irrelevant. And finally, as my other hand found the sopping wetness between my legs, nothing seemed to matter for I was writhing on my sofa in orgasmic satisfaction, making myself cum just before I heard my daughter's key in the lock. Monday morning was hell. I can't begin to work out how many times I changed my mind. This whole idea was becoming an obsession and taking on an importance far beyond merely masturbating, for in reality that's all it was, wasn't it? In reality I was going to take my clothes off, touch myself then make myself cum. Just as I had last night on the sofa and last night in bed and the night before on the sofa and Saturday evening in the shower. In reality it was just masturbating, wasn't it? Yes it may well have been just masturbating, but it wasn't really reality was it? True, with Matt reading every word I typed and him typing back, it couldn't be termed fantasy either, so what was it? I had no answer to that. Is there a state between the two? Perhaps rantasy or feality? Maybe what happens on the web needs some new terms like that? But then of course we do have cyber don't we?? I was wearing just a robe when I logged on and checked my mails. My heart pounded when I saw there was one from him. Glancing at my watch I saw it was 11.30. "I'll definitely be there at noon, naked and numb with hardness for you, my darling. I'll understand if you don't make it or if you have a change of heart when we're talking." I quickly typed back "I'm just getting dressed especially for you Matt, I'll be there when you want me." The silk felt incredible on my breasts; it was so smooth, cool, lustrous and caressing, that I was sure my skin on them was of a much higher temperature than normal. The image in the full-length mirror thrilled me. "What an arrogant, hedonistic vain woman I can be," I thought as I looked at myself clad just in a pale pink blouse. The hem of it was around my hips the lapels were open. They were caught on my nipples, that I saw with a wry smile were almost exactly the same colour as the blouse. My breasts were full but had that sag that "older" woman who've suckled children have. My waist was nicely indented, but the tummy that should have been cosseted after birth or should have received many hours of attention in the gym, did bulge. Not alarmingly, not in a Christmas pudding like way of a pregnancy bulge, but was of size where being undressed by a younger men had to be avoided or done in the dark if possible. It did, fortunately, almost vanish when I was lying on my back naked or near so, but then the bloody tits flopped to each side, so as with woman my age, I couldn't win could I? "Maybe," I thought smiling, "that's the attraction of sex via the net, no peeping eyes?" I'd promised Matt that I'd dress to excite him and that was what I was doing. "Or was I," I thought as I slid into the Agent Provocateur panties that were as ridiculously brief as they were ridiculously expensive, £40 just to cover those thin lips and then be cast aside. What women do to please and thrill their lovers, or themselves, perhaps? "Again Mandy are you sure?" came up on my screen in, what seemed, a rather matter of fact reply to my invitation of, "Matt now you can fuck me." "Yes, yes I am," my writing, looking to be far more assured and confident than I felt, came up on the screen. "Oh God Mandy?" "Yes Matt, yes I know." "I'm so excited but so nervous," I told him truthfully. "So am I and have been all weekend?" "Did you make love to Fiona?" I asked referring to his wife whose photo I'd seen. "Yes I did, it was fantastic," he told me. It was that we could have such a conversation where we could discuss our own lovemaking that made my relationship with Matt so different to any other I'd had on the web. I'd told him practically everything I'd done in the past, and he'd told me lots about he and Fi's sexual habits, likes and dislikes, which included some partner swapping and attending mild orgies. "Good, I'm pleased," I replied. "But not as good as how our fantasy lovemaking is, or will be. Not as good as how it's going to be." "No that's better, ours isn't real, that is." "No Mandy, ours is real, just different." "Yes that's true." "What are you wearing?" "A pink, silk blouse and tracky trousers, you?" "Just the tight, white CK long boxers you like." Clicking on my picture gallery I brought up the photo he'd sent me a few weeks ago. Any doubts about my arousal vanished as I looked at him. He wasn't that tall or muscular, just nice, with little excess weight and a, frustratingly to me given my bulges, flat stomach. The white, almost cyclist shorts length boxers clung to him like a second skin. They accentuated and emphasised his genitals making them, as maybe they were, I didn't know for I'd never seen them naked, huge. Not the boastful type at all I'd had to drag out of him that he had a thrillingly near eight inch long and three inch diameter cock! I was almost shivering with desire as I imagined him at his PC in that deliciously alluring underwear. "Just them Matt?" "Yes love just my boxers, just those tight white boxers you like so much. Just those skin tight pants Mandy that cling to me so closely." "Mmmmmm," I clicked feeling the surge of arousal at the words he was manipulating me with. "The ones you said made my cock look big." "It does Matt; I have it on screen now." "Does it look big now? Would you like to see it right now?" "Yes, yes Matt it looks huge." Suddenly the window in which we were chatting said, "Matt has invited you to photo share, Accept or decline." I don't usually like pictures of men's' erections. To an extent i's "seen one seen 'em all," well to me at least. Obviously that's different when looking at the real thing. When near to a penis that you know you've made hard, it's a totally different ball game. When up close and personal to something that's shortly going to invade you, plunder your insides and do such amazing things to your mind and body, well then they look fantastic. But on a computer screen or a paper, no thanks not for me, usually. But Matt's cock looked magnificent. It was big, it was long, it was thick and in the about to be fucked state I was in, it looked beautiful. Yes, though cocks, most of the time, have little going for them and certainly are low on aesthetic values, when hard, hot, nearby and are about to be shoved right up a girl's pussy, then they really can look beautiful. Beautiful and powerful is how I like to consider a cock that I am about to devour. "Oh Matt," I whimpered, adding "thank you, thank you," remembering that last week he'd asked if I'd like such a photo of him and I 'd said I would. "Oh yes," I went on as several more of him in various naked poses lit up my screen. "What's under the blouse babe?" Came up, making me tear my eyes away from his body and cock "What would you like to be under it if we were together?" I asked rather coyly given the circumstances. "Nothing of course." "Spot on Matt, you got it in one." I typed trying to sound sexy in print. "Does it feel nice Mandy, the silk on those big, full tits of yours?" "Mmmmmm," wonderful. "Are you rubbing your boobs, through the silk?" "Yes," I told him truthfully feeling a shudder go through me as my fingers found my nipple and caressed it through the pleasure giving silk. "And under the trackies? Are you naked there as well?" "No Matt, just a nice little thong, just like this," I typed as I forwarded him the page, www.agentprovocateur.com that showed the most gorgeous, but annoying stick-like model in the thong with shots from the back and front. "I bet that looks fantastic Mandy, are you looking at that thong?" "No of course not," I typed as I started getting a little more involved with the silk on my breasts. "It's hidden by the trackies isn't it?" "Yes, but should it be Mandy? Need it be? Wouldn't it be better if it wasn't?" "Lol," I typed turning to the chat room vernacular. "What, pray sir are you suggesting?" I asked in the mock, shock way we sometimes messed around as I undid the buttons on my blouse and pushed my boobs together with the silk between my hands and my skin. Memories of that 'goodbye fuck' with Craig came into my mind. "Well, my naughty, randy Mandy just one thing." "Yes and what can that be I wonder?" "Take your fucking trousers off," came up followed by "lol." "Well as you ask so diplomatically how could a girl decline?" With hands that were visibly shaking I slid them down and stepped out of them, keeping them close by, though, just in case my daughter came home unexpectedly. "Have you Mandy? Have you taken them off for me?" "Yes Matt," I typed feeling very free, aroused and amazingly expectant, "Are you naked?" "Yes darling, totally naked as you want me. Are you wet?" he asked. "Of course I am Matt, are you hard?" "Yes, of course." "How hard?" "Very." "Are you as hard as you can be Matt?" "Yes as hard as I ever have been." "As hard as you would be if I was there? If I was there Matt dressed as I am here?" "How are you dressed now?" "My trackies are off Matt and my blouse is undone," I told him truthfully for the buttons had, somehow managed to slip open. "So you can see the thong now can you?" "Yes." "Is it wet, have I made you wet?" I ran my finger along the gusset, establishing that it was indeed very wet. At the same time, I sent lovely sensations through my entire body. "It's soaked Matt, you've made me very, very wet indeed." "And you've made me so hard you sexy bitch." "Ooooo dirty talk so soon." As we both thought about such things there was no typing for a few moments. I saw the light on the window saying "Matt is typing a message." I wondered what was coming for we'd reached a seminal moment. A key time, a critical instant. We'd reached the time when either, we drifted on or, we cybered. Either we kept on talking about netfucking, or we netfucked. "Mandy, I want you so much." My heart leaped for he'd taken the plunge, made the decision and had asked the question for that was followed by. " I want us to make love, can we darling, can we please?" "Right at this moment in time Matt, there is nothing in the world I would like more than that." "Really Mandy, really?" "Yes Matt really, absolutely, totally. I want to make love to you here and now Matt, I want you to make me cum and I want to help you cum. So fuck me Matt, please fuck me right now and make me cum with you." As it happens the exchanges between us in messenger were not that clear or really successful. Both of us, so we told each other later, were so aroused that our focus was more on ourselves than on the keyboard, screen or our cyber friend. It was very difficult typing to tell each other what we each doing and how we were feeling as, certainly for me, the sensation built up quickly and hugely. I was cumming with my typical first time speed almost as soon as we had 'formally' agreed to the electronic fuck. I didn't do anything special, nothing different, nothing unique, just a straightforward masturbation using my hands on my breasts and tummy and my fingers on my nipples, clit and pussy. That's really how it all started. That's how I "found my feet" on the net, well not my feet literally, but it is how I found out how to masturbate on there, how to make love on there and, yes, how to, in effect, fuck and be fucked on there. Matt started me off on this latest phase of my mid-life crisis sex life and, I suppose, I have taken to it like a 'dog to water.' We did it frequently for a few weeks. It was as if once we'd done it we just couldn't get enough of each other, for a while; not that unlike lovers in real life who lust for each other, but don't really go emotionally further than that. Like couples who want sex, but little more from each other. As so often happens in a transitory world such as the net with a couple that have only sex in common, Matt and I didn't last. We made pretence that we weren't bored, that our "lovemaking" hadn't become predictable and that we still wanted each other badly. But it was all an act. We were like an office affair or a couple that meet, become very intense, have great sex and mistake that for there being something more in the relationship. For Christ's sake how can there be more with just a bloody screen and keyboard where one's only communication is typed words? So we "had" each other less and less frequently until we stopped. Sure, a few times over the next few months when we 'bumped into each other' in chat or messenger. It wasn't awkward. We were both very grown up about it and chatted easily even jokingly hinting at doing something for old time's sake. We didn't though, but we did chat about our lives and lovers with him telling me that he and Fiona had parted. She'd caught him messing around on the net and had found his email password. She'd found many of the mails we'd exchanged and two to women that Matt had met. End of story as far as she was concerned! It was by no means the end of the story as far as my online affairs were concerned. If anything, after parting from my first real cyber lover, they became more complicated, active and frequent. I guess for a while I lost control. I can't count the number of men I "electronically" slept with over the next few months. I went with older guys, younger ones, blacks, Indians, Arabs and many other nationalities. It was daft and immoral, but most of the time it was harmless, enjoyable and sexually satisfying. Yes of course having sex with a computer is limited. Sure being made to cum merely by words reduces the scope of the sex and yes it was nowhere near as fulfilling as face to face, mouth to mouth and body to body real sex. But I didn't want that. That means involvement and that I didn't want or need. No, all I needed were men with a modicum of intelligence, reasonable writing skills, a sense of adventure and a desire to cum; let's say 20% of the world's male population shall we and that was plenty enough for me! "You are one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen," I typed as I looked at Jason's cam. He'd contacted me and we'd chatted a bit before he asked if I'd like to see him on cam? These had recently, particularly in the US and the Far East become very popular, but as usual technological advances were taking their time in the UK. He was young, around 24 and lived in California. With his long blonde hair, tanned, muscular physique and tall, lean body he was the epitome of what Europeans think of as a typical Californian surfer or beach bum. The sort of young man that lots of ageing women would love to have rescue them from the sea, or even a puddle come to that! We'd chatted a couple of times with him telling me, not unexpectedly or unusually, how much he liked older women and asking my opinions on younger men. I was fairly non-committal, but not off-putting. After all, what's age got to do with fucking by words or shagging by telephone? I meant what I said when on the third time we met on messenger and he asked if I'd like to see his cam. I hesitated a bit not wishing to appear too keen but agreed. I gulped when after a short time my screen was filled with this gorgeous image. He was just wearing shorts; white, tight ones that set off the golden tan of his legs and his awesomely flat six pack to perfection. He really did look beautiful and I couldn't help saying so. "You look lovely Jason" "Thanks Amanda, just as you do in your photos." "Thanks again, but why do you want to bother with a woman of my age Jason, there must be loads younger you could have?" He went on to tell me in quite outspoken terms that he found older woman far more open and amenable on line than younger ones. "Amenable?" I typed teasingly, feeling that familiar urge starting inside me. "Yes, amenable," he replied. "I'm sure you know what I mean." Pleased that I'd met a young hunk that could use and understand such a word let alone start to debate it with me, I typed back. "I know what I understand about it Jason. What do you mean by it?" "I mean a woman that isn't offended by sexy chat and is open to flirting on here," he replied very directly. "Hmmmm, I see, and you think that's me do you?" I watched fascinated with my heart starting to pound a little as he put his hand on his chest. His skin was a golden tan and he had well-developed muscles and thus defined breasts. His nipples stood out clearly, for his upper body, at least, was bald, probably shaved, I guessed, and it seemed maybe lightly oiled; very Californian. "Just guessing Amanda, but yes I do," he typed as he let his hand slide slowly down his chest. "Am I wrong?" he asked. "Do tell me if I am and I'll stop," he went on his fingers slipping an inch or so inside the elasticised waist-band of his shorts. "Call me Mandy," I typed "All my friends do" I went on my eyes transfixed on his hand. "Ok Mandy it is, so does Mandy wish me to stop?" I didn't reply for two reasons. One, as always, despite the anonymity my social conditioning made it difficult for me to be open and upfront. Secondly I didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to go on, I wanted to see more. I wanted him to do what I thought he was suggesting. Yes I wanted Jason to take his shorts off and show me his cock. His fingers fiddling with the waist band he asked. "Well, do you want me to stop?" He'd put the ball firmly me in my court. It was now my decision, my choice and my direction. There was no way out other than to play the game by his rules. Sometimes, I'd found, guys just wanted to get naked almost irrespective of my wishes or, really even my participation. I called them flashers for it was the exposing of themselves to a woman that was the kick for them. With me that rarely worked. Even though this was unreal and was electronic some reality conventions applied, well they needed to for me. And one of those was that we were in it together so if he got his rocks off by flashing, what was my role other than an observer; a voyeur in fact? Jason, though, clearly wasn't like that, although it seemed he wasn't averse to revealing his gorgeous body. And why should he be for I guessed that to many women, me included at that moment, just seeing him in shorts was enough to dampen some knickers and make many nipples harden immediately. He obviously used this ploy as his come on, his suggestion and indication that he was available and as his seduction technique. And I'm sure it worked, for as his fingers slid just a little further into his shorts so I found one of my hands on my bare breast. "No Jason, I don't," I typed in a way that had I have been speaking would have been very quiet. "Are you sure?" he asked slipping the waist down a tad. Mid-life Crisis Ch. 03 "Yes, I'm sure." "You want to see me naked?" He asked pushing the flasher indicator in me quite a bit. He was so gorgeous though "Yes Jason, yes I do," I replied my blouse falling to the floor so that I sat there also in just a pair of shorts. He'd previously asked what I was wearing, so it wasn't too much of a surprise when he asked if I was still wearing the blouse. "No, I'm not." "So your breasts are bare are they?" he asked standing up from the bar stool and moving away from the cam so I got a pretty much full length view of him. Although I guessed he wouldn't be able to read my reply I told him they were. He was clearly experienced and, I thought, skilful at this for slowly, so very, very slowly he eased his shorts down his legs until the fell around his feet. He was already fully and wonderfully erect. And like the rest of him, his cock was glorious! I'm not much of a one to admire cheesecake. I don't usually look at hunks and gasp. Men's bodies, until I'm up against, them, don't often do that much to me; they rarely turn me on just by sight; make me want the man or make me want to be fucked by him. Jason changed all that. As he walked back and sat on the stool so that he could type and I could see him from mid-thigh to the top of his golden blonde head my sexual insides simply exploded and that's when I typed. "You are one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen," It was wonderful watching him masturbate. He did it with confidence and the assurance that he knew that he looked good. His eyes seemed to bore into mine via the cam as he got me to remove my shorts and panties. He asked me what I was doing and I could see an increase in the pace and vigour with which he was masturbating when I told him. "I'm pinching my nipples, I'm pulling them hard. I'm squeezing my breasts together," I typed with some difficulty. "Would you like this between them?" he asked pointing his cock right at the camera. "Yes, yes I would, would you like to fuck my breasts?" He wanked even harder, but managed to type, "What are you doing now"? Loving every minute of what I was seeing as this young man masturbated so freely in front of me I told him. "I'm pressing my clit Jason, rubbing all round, but not on it." "My fingers are running round my lips, in them along them, all round my pussy." Still pumping his erection he leaned forward and typed. "I asked what are you looking for? What do you want?" With my left hand rubbing my clit I typed with the fingers on my right hand. "I want to cum Jason, I want you to make me cum." "I'm near Amanda, cum with me, put your fingers in. Let's cum together." "Yes Jason, yes," I typed straightening my three middle fingers and holding my thumb on my little one. "I've got three fingers ready, three straight fingers Jason, they're near my pussy, they're ready Jason, ready for me , ready for you, they are you Jason, my fingers are your cock and they want me. Jason I've just shoved three fingers right up my cunt and I'm fucking myself. Cum with me, please, please cum with me." The sight of stream after stream of the whitish, gooey fluid spurting from his cock and splattering, firstly, on his chest and then, as the pressure subsided, onto his stomach was all I needed. Squirming more firmly on my extended fingers I writhed the sensitivity of my vaginal innards against the surrogate cock until I joined Jason in a shudderingly satisfying mutual orgasm. I knew it was getting a little out of hand. But, I reconciled, being a cyber groupie was surely better than being someone's mistress, a company bike or an older woman putting out to young guys, something that I was beginning to realise appealed to me rather more than ideally it should. And in the end result, was it all that wrong? The mails and the cams were only really 'wankaids.' That's all, just like a vibrator really, they helped you cum more easily and satisfyingly. What worried me, I suppose, was where it might lead. Was what I was doing the marijuana of the virtual world? Would it lead me to the big H, perhaps allowing myself to be persuaded to meet? Did one thing lead to the other, did the addiction increase until you had to have more for your habit got bigger and harder to satisfy as time moved on? That was the worry, but I reconciled that by thinking I had known when to stop with Craig and Patrick, I hadn't gone astray again in those ways again and this was different to those adventures, this was just me and my PC. Could I do it? Should I? I pondered. I'd sometimes masturbated as I spoke to Kevin on the phone when he was away on one of his frequent business trips and twice I'd done that with Patrick during our affair. But to do it with a stranger, a cyberpal, someone I'd met on messenger, wow that was a whole new ball game wasn't it? Several men, well lots really, had asked. I'd always said no for my intent was to keep my distance from them. My web activities were kept in a sealed compartment of my life, to which there was only one key-holder, me. No one else knew I even went into messenger let alone what I did there and I had no intention of opening it up other than when I wanted to. Equally, I wasn't prepared to go any further than I had so far. I was determined never to meet. Not just because of the dangers involved, but also because it made me feel cheap; as though I was using the net to pick up men. Odd wasn't it that I'd masturbate with them and could morally and emotionally handle that, yet the idea of meeting made me feel cheap? Also I didn't want the hassle. All the lies and cheating, excuses and duplicity that go with the territory of an affair, for that was almost certainly what it would be for nearly all the men I met were married, although exciting and essential parts of the buzz are draining and get to you after a while. In my way I was now being faithful to myself and my family. Why risk fucking all that up simply to meet and presumably have sex with a stranger from the net? But then I'd always thought I wouldn't talk that much about sex; that I wouldn't tell men what I was wearing; wouldn't undress, bare myself or caress my body; wouldn't look at men on cam as they masturbated and certainly wouldn't say "You are one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen," as I gazed lustfully I suppose at a young man's naked and very rampant body. In the end I'd always given in, reconciling it as 'in for a penny...................!! "Hi," I said quietly into the pay as you go mobile I had bought during my Patrick days. "Hello Mandy, how are you?" I heard, feeling relieved that it was clearly a female voice. Several times men had pretended to be women and had come onto me quite strongly. That was why I was relatively easily persuaded by Lin to chat on the phone. That and the fact she was thousands of miles away and I was resurrecting, no had resurrected, my bi curiousity as I got deeper and deeper into my writing and to the net. No matter how intimate we'd chatted on the screen there was still that lingering doubt that she could be a man or to her so could I. And so we'd agreed that before we did anything we'd talk on the phone, but with her being in California and me in London the eight hour time difference made it difficult. Several times one or the other of us had been forced to cancel at the last minute due to unforeseen circumstances such as one of my children being around or her older male lover, who it seemed treated her as almost a sex-slave, not going to work as he should "I'm fine and you?" It didn't take long for us to take things dramatically further. But then we'd almost been there before. Been there typing to each other and looking at the photos we'd exchanged; photos that as we'd got to know each other became more explicit, more graphic and quite frankly more horny. Most of my portfolio had been taken by Kevin although I had taken a few on my phone for special requests and Lin had hers taken by her lover who was trying to get her some modelling assignments. So far it seemed all he'd managed to get her was some "erotic dancing" gigs, or as we call them in the UK strip jobs. I was undressed as we'd planned. "Just that blue, silk robe you've seen in the photo Lin." "Mmmmmm and under it?" "Just me lol. And you Lin." "lol, I' m just me." "Well then." I said a bit tongue-tied. "Well then too," came back Nothing was said for a while as I looked at the photos of the innocent face and the lustful body, the childlike look and the womanly demeanour. She was truly beautiful, had a fabulous figure with the most perfect, small but rounded 33b breasts and long, long slender legs that even as I looked at them I could imagine being around my shoulders as I lay between them lapping at the marvellous source of her femininity. That thought made me physical shudder with my newly rediscovered bi desire, but mainly with surprise. "Mandy, I'm looking at your breasts imagining them in my mouth." "I want them there Lin as I want to be between what I'm looking at, your thighs. Open them for me darling." "Oh yes, yes," came quietly and throatily down the phone, "undo your robe darling and get those titties ready for me." I gladly shrugged it off. I wanted to bare myself for her, to be as naked as she was. "Yes Lin, I have, I'm naked and ready," I moaned. "I want you babe; I want you now, make love to me, make love to me now, please fuck me darling." "Oh yes Lin, yes," I groaned both my hands cupping my breasts and caressing, squeezing and kneading them. "I want to fuck you, I want you to fuck me, make me cum Lin, make me cum" I was saying all these natural and presumably correct phrases without actually having a very clear idea as to what two women cyber-fucking actually entailed. "I'm near Mandy, I have my fingers up my cunt and I'm fucking myself as if it was you. What are you doing?" I told her about holding my breasts. "But now Mandy you have to fuck yourself with your fingers and pretend they're mine." I wanted more than that and I'd planned for more than that. Why not? I knew what was going to happen with Lin today. I wanted sex with her as much as she wanted sex with me, or bringing reality into play, we both wanted sex with ourselves, for that was what it really was all about. That's what all my messing around on the net was about wasn't it? Modern masturbation; variations on a theme; bringing self-sex more alive, adding verve and flair to it, getting more from it. Wasn't that why I did it, why Lin, Matt and all the others I'd had and who'd had me did it? Didn't we all do it so we'd get more excitement from fucking ourselves because we couldn't or didn't want to fuck or be fucked by others? Other than some mild flirting and one groping, drunken kiss at a party when I was about to go to university, I have had no experience with women. To be truthful, compared to many women I know, I hadn't had that much experience with men either; three in over twenty years and nine in total during my life isn't going to set any records is it? In my late teens and twenties and through most of thirties I really had absolutely no interest whatsoever in other women. I knew that I had no lesbian tendencies. Even when it was offered to me on a plate several times by lesbian tennis girls, I wasn't even tempted. My cyber stuff changed all that. Through reading Literotica, exchanging emails, using messenger and then surfing round some of the slightly seemier areas of the net, I was amazed at just how wide spread girl with girl action had become. I knew, of course, from the papers and magazine, from TV and films that it had become a hot topic, but I would never have believed just how hot and how popular it seemed to be. That made me curious, I suppose; bi curious as I found out it was termed. I didn't begin looking at girls and imagining them naked, I didn't look at friends and start to fancy them and I didn't develop a penis hatred or anything like that. No, as my net and writing activities increased so my interest in girly sex, I refuse to call it lesbian, also increased. I started to think what it would be like to be touched by a woman, stroked and caressed by one. How it would feel to be kissed by a girl, be in her arms, have my body pressed against hers. What it would be like to have her cup my breasts and squeeze them and, more significantly, what it would be like to feel her boobs, to cup them, stroke and caress them. And of course the more I thought of such things, the more my imagination, my bi curiosity, was stretched. What would it feel like I wondered to be naked with another girl and have our bare bodies pressed together; to feel her fingers on my wetness, to have them inside me and to do the same to her? What would she taste and smell like, what would I feel like if I made her cum? I didn't have any real desire to satisfy that curiosity by meeting a girl. In my current thinking that would be as pointless as having another affair with a man, and in any case I'm not lesbian am I? Hence, Lin was my first venture into satisfying that curiosity, my first attempt at going both ways and my initial sortie into 'having my sexual cake and eating it' at the same time. "I will Lin, but not with my fingers." "What then darling?" "I have my vibrator." "Oh yes, use that, use that to fuck yourself." "Have you got one Lin?" "No Chuck won't let me," she replied. I didn't bother to ask why, but instead switched on the bright pink vibrator. "Oh darling," Lin moaned down the phone. "That sounds so good." "It feels wonderful," I told her as I ran the vibrating tip round my nipples, over my breasts and down onto the lips of pussy returning time and time again, of course, to the base of my clitoris. That really is the most mega sensitive place for me. With the folds of pink, glistening skin pulled away the entire, fantastic stalk, that has only sexual pleasure giving as its reason for existence, is revealed and then my fingers, a lovers tongue or, as now, the tip of a throbbing vibrator can find the place where maybe my erotic paradise resides. I was too het up to last long. I'd wanted this for some time and had thought of little more than having Lin over the phone for the past week or so. Being naked, hearing her voice and her low moans and now having my "friend" doing its business on my special spot were all too much. "Oh Lin," I sighed holding the plastic against my clit and turning the power up a tad, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming." "Yes Mandy yes, yes, yes, so am, so am I." We both grunted, groaned, sighed and moaned our ways wordlessly, to our climaxes. . So as we come more and more up to date I am sexually interesting and fulfilling myself with a combination of writing stories for Lit, exchanging emails, using messenger and occasionally having cyber-sex with my 'team' of online friends. I don't use messenger anywhere near as frequently as I did when I was first introduced to it. Now it's more like an outlet valve for when I become very frustrated or when I am writing a story or exchanging emails that particularly excite me. I see meeting a man, and now and then a woman on there, having an intelligent and interesting get to know each other period of chat and emails, perhaps photos as well, as my 'hobby.' If, as it could in reality, leads to both of us wanting more, then so be it. I have overcome my feelings that if I masturbate with someone they will think badly of me, think I'm too easy or a slut. In many ways those descriptions may be true, but now I don't mind if others think it, after all the net is hugely transitory and probably was invented for split personalities such as me.