My slow journey exploring my sexuality and discovering what?
“Yes, yes, oh my god yes, yes,” I groaned as my husband, once more rather unsuccessfully fucked me.
“Is it good Teen?” he asked slamming himself harder and faster into me.
“Yes, darling, yes of course it is” I sighed, gritting my teeth and making a big effort to writhe my body beneath him as his hand gripped the cheeks of my arse.
It had been like this for a year or so now. A year or so in which I had feigned the orgasms he believed he was giving me. Although now in our forties, we still had an active sex life. In fact for me, nowadays, the two to three times a week we did it was far too active.
At first, which was just over a year ago, I had wondered what was happening to me. I could not work out whether I was going frigid or whether it was a physical or emotional issue. All I knew was that as bedtime approached my mood dropped into almost a depression. I felt slightly scared and I did not like what I was feeling. I did not like making excuses, going to bed early and doing all I could to avoid Ben wanting to have sex.
As these sensations and ‘anti sex’ tactics continued, so our marriage also started to deteriorate. We bickered more and these turned into frequent arguments, some being blazing rows. We found faults in each other in areas where we had not before and we criticised each other about things that previously had not seemed to bother us. We started going out more frequently with friends, or to the gym or other events without the other. I found myself starting arguments mid-evening or near to bedtime, anything to avoid sex.
“Are you sure?” Ben asked one of his fingers sliding into the crease of my bum and pressing hard against my anus.
“Yes darling. Yes I am sure” I lied as I felt anything but orgasmic delights.
“Well madam does have such an alluring figure,” the rather prissy, but nevertheless attractive short, slim, dark haired owner of the boutique in Highgate said as I was trying on a number of outfits, a couple of years ago.
“Alluring?” I said raising my eyebrows.
Bent down beside me from where she was fiddling with a skirt that I was trying on Monique smiled and said. “Well full, but that’s alluring.”
“Is large breasted what you are searching for Monique?” I replied, quite enjoying the feelings of her fingers on my bare leg.
“Well yes I think it is” she replied in her strong French accent, her fingers sliding lightly up my bare leg, probably a little further than necessary.
“So is that why you rarely have anything to fit me?” I asked feeling little shudders go through me from the feel of her fingertips on my leg..
“Maybe, for we do tend to cater for the er, um, more petite woman.”
“Petite and I do not mix” I joked as I felt that shudder of something go through me when I saw her eyes were riveted on my thirty eight inch double D breasts. She left her fingertips resting somesix or eight inches above my knee on the outside of my leg.
“No I can see and I am so envious,” she said in almost a whisper.
That sent another shudder through me that, I realised was suspiciously like a surge of sexual desire.
“And I thoroughly enjoyed playing with you,” the Swedish woman said as we pecked each other on the cheek at the end of the round of golf.
I was at a company convention in Malaga in Spain. Although not employed by the global ad agency, I did lots of freelance copywriting for them and usually got invited to such junkets; after all spare ‘eye candy’ is always useful, especially if they have big tits.
As usual, it was a mixture of debates, seminars and lectures with social and sporting events. Ideal for what the bosses called team bonding and what the staff felt was a waste of time and would rather have the money than the junket.
Helda was the Managing Director of the Scandinavian group and was a known and admitted lesbian. I had been drawn to play golf with her and had enjoyed my round.
As she said that double entendre, she held my gaze just a tad longer than is necessary and left her hand resting on my hip. I panicked. I went hot and I felt my pulse race a little.
“Yes I enjoyed it too,” I muttered lowering my gaze and then lifting it again to meet hers.
“We will have to do it again” she smiled at me adding in a lower tone. “Soon, very soon.”
It was my third night away from home. Although the frequency of sex between Ben and I had decreased, I still missed gaining the occasional orgasm, although that now and then came in the bathroom after he had fucked me rather than as he did it. That night after the golf I masturbated, something I was doing more frequently since my sexual relationship with my husband had started to deteriorate. As one hand squeezed and caressed my right boob and pinched and pulled my nipple and the other rubbed my clit and along my lips, I brought myself near to an orgasm. With my emotions running riot I suddenly gave myself such a shock. Just as the pleasure from Ankara escort my hands was becoming wonderfully intense, Helda came into my mind. She was naked and lying beside me. She had one arm round my shoulders and the other was reaching down my body. We were kissing deeply as her fingers slid into my wet, open and receptive cunt. With that image in my mind, I climaxed.
“Like to dance?” the personal trainer who had given me the induction course at the gym asked?
This was about three months ago. I was at the monthly disco that the gym held for its staff and members. I have no idea why I was there other than it got me out of the house and home late enough for Ben to have been in bed.
“Ok” I said to the quite pretty, but rather athletic looking PT.
When I had seen her earlier just after the music started, I had thought that she scrubbed up well. She was wearing a nice, pale blue, low cut, silk dress with thin spaghetti straps and high heels. The dress was tight and the hem was a good six inches above her knees. She was in her early thirties I guessed and from chatting to her as she drilled me in the gym, I knew that she was single. It would be an exaggeration to say that we had got to know each other well, but we did chat now and then and we smiled at each other when we passed in the gym or pool.
In the gym, the female personal trainers usually wore tight, dark blue, lycra pedal pushers that ended just beneath the knee with a range of different tops, in white or yellow. As Emma moved round the gym, it was quite evident that her long slim legs and gorgeously pert bottom were her crowning assets. At the disco, it was also quite evident that the rest of her features, including her small, but beautifully formed boobs, were also pretty good. She had her browny, auburn hair that she was wearing down so that it tumbled onto her nearly bare, tanned shoulders unlike at the gym where she usually had a pony tail and she was wearing full make-up. I had not seen her like that before I realised it accentuated her big eyes and full lips and really did make her look very attractive.
I had chosen a simple white, cotton, button up the front top and blue denim jeans. The top was loose so that I was not emphasising my tits and I too wore my hair down. Although a good ten years older than Emma, my hair was longer, some might say too long for my age, as it now rather frighteningly had a number of grey streaks, and it was wavier. Looking in the mirror just before I left home, I had thought the black hair tumbling onto the white cotton was a nice contrast, although I had some doubts about the rather heavy, dark frames of my glasses; I mad a mental not to get a ‘softer’ pair. I was wearing black, mid-height heeled, strappy sandals that showed off my scarlet painted toe nails, rather prettily I thought.
During the first dance to Abba’s Dancing Queen, we chatted about the gym and my programme. As the music got louder on the next number so we chatted less and concentrated on our dancing. Emma was a wonderful mover and her generally, somewhat athletic gait witnessed in the gym was replaced with a sensual and extremely provocative, style of dancing; her body was amazingly supple. I could not hope and did not try to compete.
“Some dancer” I said as we walked to the bar and ordered white wines.
“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” she smiled back.
We joined a group of six or seven women, a couple of whom I recognised as members and three as PTs. Although probably the oldest there, I did not feel uncomfortable and joined in with the gossip and lively banter. It was fun and I was enjoying myself being with ‘the girls.’
One of the girls asked what I would like to drink and I said white wine. Another suggested that we all put a tenner in a kitty to pay for it, but another said.
“Leaving the tee totallers, Emma and Annie out of it.”
“No, no, I am happy to pay” Emma said.
“Don’t be fucking stupid you are not paying a tenner for two glasses of water, you silly bitch” the aggressive, but nice scouser grunted.
It took me back years when we all danced as a group interchanging partners and trying to outdo each other with sexy dance movements. We took it in turns to go into the centre of the circle of girls and to do our thing as the others looked on; Emma won by a mile.
The evening wore on and I danced with a couple of men who were members and a two or three male trainers, but after each dance I returned to the group of girls in the corner of the bar. It was getting late and I had drunk too much. Not to the point that I was drunk, but I was certainly over the limit and decided to get a cab home. I was coming to the gym tomorrow and either, Ben could drop me off or, I would get another cab.
I was on the dance floor with a few of the group when a slow number came on. I went to leave, but Emma grabbed me.
“No stay Tina” she said grabbing my hand.
Until then, we had not touched each other’s flesh. Her hand holding mine sent a surge of feelings through Ankara escort bayan me, I almost shuddered.
“Come on,” she said pulling me into her arms.
I should have resisted I suppose, but glancing round the crowded floor, seeing several other girly couples, and knowing that it was quite common in the clubs for girls to dance together, I did not. Instead, I held Emma’s hands and moved slowly on the spot to an old Barry White number, which was cool and sexy.
At first, we were at arms-length and apart from our hands no other parts of our bodies were touching. Being quite mellow from too much wine and getting well into the music I had not really noticed how things had changed as we danced. Instead of just loosely holding hands, my right and her left, our fingertips were now entwined and I felt one of Emma’s fingers stroking my palm. I was closer to her, much closer and now as we moved, our tummies, legs and breasts would occasionally touch. I had draped my left hand round her narrow waist and she had rested her left hand on the side of my hip, just where I have a slight excess, my love handles as Ben calls them. Innocuous in many ways, but whereas my hand was horizontal to the floor, Emma’s was almost vertical. That meant that mine was touching only her waist, but that hers was touching my hip and the start of my bottom.
None of these things really hit me very hard or, at the time, seemed out of the ordinary. They clearly were, but did not seem to be, for they felt natural. So much so that when I felt a pressure from her hand on my hip I went with the request and let myself go even closer to her. So close that her small breasts were engulfed by mine. I opened my eyes, looked down, and saw that where they were squashed against me her low top and slipped a little and most of both of her boobs were uncovered. It was clear that she had not bothered with a bra for where the cotton of my blouse was pressing on the silk of her dress the neckline had slipped so that on one breast I could see a touch of her pink areola. For some reason that excited me.
I looked up and into her brown eyes. Neither of us spoke, but Emma smiled. I smiled back. The finger resting on my palm started to press more firmly and began rubbing me in small circles. That felt highly intimate, but also very nice. As she looked deeply into my eyes, I felt her other hand move a little. It moved across and down me so that her fingers were now pressing right onto and into the flesh of my bottom. I was relieved that the floor was crowded and the room was dimly lit. I was even more relieved when she let go of my hand and slid hers slowly upwards. The palm of it was on the side of my body with the fingers on my back. She stopped when it was just a little more than mid-way between my waist and the bottom of my breast. As the number was ending, she eased it further upwards, but even more slowly. Then, as the last notes of the song started, she moved it further until her palm rested fully on the side of breast. Looking into my eyes, she pressed and sent such a surge of sexual desire through me that a little moan slipped through my lips.
We held each other’s gaze as the last dance, the typical and rather naff Frank Sinatra, New York, New York was announced. Our arms round each other we did the obligatory can-can sort of stuff until the music stopped and then turning we put our arms round each other and hugged and then kissed each other on the cheek.
Back in the bar for a last drink, I was on the phone ordering a cab, when Emma said. “Let me give you a lift Tina.”
“No, no it’s fine, it’s only a few miles.”
Emma moved closer and smiling and adopting a mock fierce tone that others would hear she said. “Darling, I insist.”
At the time, Ben and I lived near to Alexandra Palace. It was a slightly run down area, but nevertheless it was trendy with loads of bars and restaurants and, of course, the relative ‘countryside’ of the park around Ally Pally. We were both doing well financially and we had vague plans to move more upmarket, either to Islington or, even more so, to Highgate. However, the state of our marriage was hardly conducive to planning a move so it sat very much on the back burner.
We were soon the road where I lived. As usual, parking was a nightmare and Emma had driven well past my house looking for a space.
“Do a left and left and left Emma and then just drop me in the middle of the road.”
She did the first two left turns and as we came up to the third, there was a large space under one of the London plain trees. She pulled into it.
“I can walk from here,” I said feeling slightly scared as she turned off the motor on the blue Ford Focus.
“I know you can lovey, but I don’t want you to,” she said turning her body and looking at me.
I stayed pressed back into my seat, wondering what she was up to and what was going to happen. A little part of me wished she would just say good night and let me get out. A larger part wanted to chat, but that still left another big part Escort Ankara not sure what it wanted.
“Have you enjoyed this evening Tina?” she asked running her hand through to brush it away from her face. As she did, the top of her dress moved and again I saw a goodly part of both of her breasts. Although the only light was coming from a street lamp some thirty or so meters away, I could see that the dress had ridden well up her bare legs.
“Yes Emma, yes I have.”
“Good” she said in barely a whisper. “So have I, it’s been wonderful spending it with you.”
I was struggling now. Was she pulling me? Was this a come on? How would I know? Would I resist?
“And you” I gulped as she reached out and took my hand.
Looking deeply into my eye, leaning forward a little more she placed her fingertips on the back of my hand. “I mean really, really wonderful Tina, get me?” She asked again holding my gaze.
“Yes, I think so Emma.”
“But you aren’t sure are you?” She said her fingers rubbing the back of my hand.
“No” I breathed.
“I meant Tina that it was spending it with you that made it wonderful.”
“Oh I see,” I stammered as she turned my hand over and ran her fingertips and brown painted to match her hair, fingernails across the palm.
“Do you see Tina, do you really see?”
“I er, um Emma, oh I don’t know,” I replied genuinely confused.
“Was it wonderful for you, lovey because of me?”
“Yes” I whispered as she slid her other arm along the back of my seat in front of the headrest.
“Because of what we did Tina, did that make it wonderful? It did for me.”
I could not think of anything to say, so we sat in silence for a few moments. We were staring at her fingers that were now stroking all over my hand and fingers and were moving onto the front of my wrist, just where those veins vanish into your hand, which is a very sensitive place.
“Was it because of that Tina?”
“Oh Emma,” I groaned. “I don’t know, I really just don’t know,” I went on feeling near to tears as I bowed my head and stopped looking at her.
I felt her hand on my hair. She gently ruffled it and whispered.
“You have such gorgeous hair Tina.”
“Thank you” I mumbled.
“Have you done anything like that before Tina?”
“Well not since I was very young, we all do things like that then,” I stammered.
“Yes that is true, but not since you have been a woman?”
“No, I am married.”
“I know, but that does not matter.”
“Oh it does, Emma, it matters so much.”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know, I just don’t know” I went on now completely and utterly confused.
I realised that Emma’s hand had slid up my arm and was caressing it by my elbow whilst her other one was stroking my head, rubbing my neck and running the fingers through my black, curly, rather dishevelled hair. These were overtly intimate gestures. There could be no doubting that or the fact that now, she was clearly trying to seduce me. Those thoughts were flying round my mind as I struggled desperately to work out what I wanted to do.
“Darling,” she whispered. “It has nothing to do with being married or not, it is all to do with how and what you feel.”
“What do you mean?”
As she said that I realised that the fingers that were stroking my arm were just millimetres away from the side of my breast and the memory of the feelings I had gained when she had touched that as we danced filled my mind and seeped into my body.
“I mean Tina, you had feelings when I held you and when I touched you didn’t you?”
“Yes I did.”
“And when I caressed you, you had them didn’t you?”
“And when I touched your boob you got them, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Emma yes I did.”
“And lovey you have got them right now haven’t you?”
“Yes” I muttered.
“And if I do this Tina, you get them even more don’t you?” She asked holding my head and turning it towards her.
She had pulled one knee up beneath her bottom so that raised her higher and enabled her to lean over the central console to reach me so that our faces were almost touching. Her eyes were boring into mine, her mouth was slightly open and I watched as she licked her tongue along her upper lip. I knew that she wanted to kiss me. I knew that she was in a way asking my permission to do that and I knew that the ball was very much in my court. But what I did not know was what I wanted her to do, so I did nothing.
She saw and must have understood my dilemma. She may have been in a similar position herself at some time; that moment when you have to confront your sexuality and challenge and maybe break the status quo.
I felt her hand holding the back of my neck more firmly and saw her face move closer to mine.
“And Tina,” she said in a near whisper. “You would get them very much if I kissed you wouldn’t you?”
“Oh my god” I gasped as without further ado her face closed the gap between us and she brushed her lips gently along mine. She hovered them there for a moment or two, neither kissing me, nor removing them. Again, I took this to be a sign of her consideration and a way of seeking my approval before she proceeded.