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I’m taking my time to prepare. After a long luxurious bath, I exfoliate and moisturize. I dry and style my hair, I put on makeup and I spray my favorite perfume. Then I put on my garter belt and my favorite stockings. As I smooth my hands over each leg to make sure the nylon is in place, the feeling of the fabric under my fingers excites me. I shouldn’t let myself go, but I can’t resist. I caress my nylon-covered legs, delighting in this sensual sensation, then I slide my hand between my thighs. I’m already a little swollen and wet, and soon I’m rubbing and fingering myself, stroking my breasts with my other hand.
It’s nice, but I need more. I take out my favorite white dildo and a bottle of lubricant. I apply the lubricant to the dildo, put one foot on my chair and slide it inside. The curves and bumps of the toy hit the right places much better than my fingers. I alternate slow and gentle strokes with rubbing the dildo on my increasingly sensitive clitoris. My excitement is rising and I need more and more. After another coat of lubricant, I settle on the bed and continue, soon exchanging slow strokes for fast and vigorous ones. Faster and faster until I pass the point of no return and a delicious orgasm hits me.
I only have time for a quick break – I have to hurry up or I’ll be late. I put on a sexy but not extravagant dress and heels. I am a woman of a certain age, after all. Twenty years ago, I didn’t care what people thought of me. I had a young, slim and perfect body, and I knew it. I wore what I wanted, I took advantage of the men’s reactions and I had a lot of fun. Today, I am a divorced mother of two children, who works from 9 to 17 hours. But despite what the press says about women my age, I’m not in the trash. Far from it. My job is well paid, I own my house and my car, I have a family, friends, colleagues, a busy social life and I like yoga, hiking, holidays, good wine, good food.
And sex.
Especially sex. I was apprehensive about menopause and its changes, but I came out of it with unexpected advantages: a newfound confidence and a unleashed libido. I signed up on dating apps and started meeting men. It opened my eyes. I met a representative sample of the men of society, some wonderful, others less so. I slept with some, others didn’t. But I learned that men don’t care as much about appearance as I thought. Attraction is a matter of personality, humor and that indefinable spark.
I’m meeting Brett tonight, a man I’ve been chatting with for a few weeks. He seems smart, witty and funny. If he’s honest, he’s a few years my junior, over eighty meters tall, has salt and pepper hair and beard, mischievous brown eyes and an infectious smile. He is divorced, has two adult children, loves food, hates the gym and loves the outdoors. On paper, we are made for each other, but I am careful not to sell the bear’s skin before it hatches.
The taxi stops at the restaurant. It’s time to find out if we are as compatible in real life as we are online. Fingers crossed.
The summer night air is cool and I take a deep breath to calm down. I smooth my hair and get dressed, knowing that I look good. I feel good, which, I think, strengthens my attractiveness. I hope Brett and I have enough in common to go beyond the physical.
Brett greets me with a radiant smile, just like in his profile. He is tall, well built and smells good. We exchange polite kisses on the cheek, and I hope that he will only notice my Chanel Coco Mademoiselle.
“It’s great to finally meet you,” he says.
I’m smiling. “Sorry for being a little late. It’s great to meet you too.”
“No problem,” he shrugs. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come. »
“Really? “I’m sipping my water.
He nods. “I’ve already been asked a rabbit. »
I wince. “We’ve all been there. »
“And you? Men are idiots,” he says, inwardly making me savor his compliment.
This breaks the ice and we start chatting. We haven’t looked at the menu when the waitress arrives. Brett apologizes and asks for five more minutes, and we order drinks.
The evening passes quickly with good food, drinks and company. The spark is there, and for me, it’s a white flame. Brett seems to feel the same way. My nervousness comes back when he pays the bill and we get ready to leave. Impatience is killing me.
“I’m just going to book my taxi,” I say.
“I’ll stay with you until he arrives,” he offers.
“Thank you. He’s on his way.”
We get up and thank the doorman, then we go into the cool night. Brett suggests sharing a cab, and I tease him before agreeing. We get into the taxi, and the confined space makes me horny. I squeeze my thighs.
Once at my house, we run to the door. Brett presses me against her, his eyes dark with desire. “Do you want this?”he purrs.
“Yes,” I nod, locking the door.
“Where is your room?”
I lead him upstairs, needing space to regain his composure. In my room, I fold my finger and he approaches. “My God, Julia, you look gorgeous,” he mumbles, his cock hard against my stomach. “I want you so much.”
“Then stop talking and fuck me,” I order.
He kisses me with greed and we surrender to passion. Our lips clash, our tongues fight, our hands wander. Brett backs off. “Take off your dress.”
“Take off your… everything,” I answer him.
We undress and he drinks me. “Wow. You’re amazing.”
I show my silky underwear. “Do you like it?”
“I love it. The problem is that I can’t decide if I want you to keep them or take them off while I fuck you.”
“What if I did something in between?”I take off my panties and get on the bed. “How are you?”
Brett puts on his cock with a condom and positions himself between my legs. “Fuck me, Brett.”
He does it and I fuck him in return. It’s fast and furious, the vigorous fucking of two people who know that this is only the first of many. I press my fingers against my clitoris and the momentum brings me to orgasm. Brett growls and I nod. “So am I.”
We gather, our screams and moans mix. Brett rolls over on top of me, out of breath. “It was faster than I would have liked. Sorry.”
“I came, you came. It was nice. We can go slower next time.”
“Next time?”He asks.
“Yes.”I’m getting another condom. “I’m ready when you are.”
Brett shakes his head in disbelief. “How could I have been so lucky?”
I laugh and kiss her. Have I finally found something more? I think so. I just hope he can follow me.
هذه المقالة متاحة أيضًا بـ:
العربية (Arabic) 简体中文 (Chinese (Simplified)) Français (French) Deutsch (German) 日本語 (Japanese) Español (Spanish)
