Break Out

Although this story is 'self-contained' it is better if read after its companion piece - 'Research Pays Off'

Chapter 1

Jane

It's strange looking back over the last fifteen years, almost as though I am remembering someone else's life, a sister's or a close friend's, not my life at all!

A steady boy-friend from a good family, a very chaste engagement, social wedding with all the trimmings, faithful, dependable, hard-working husband, lovely home, two children, plenty of friends, active social life - and - frustrated boredom!

And, what's even more remarkable, for all that time, I didn't really know that I was either bored, or frustrated!

To think that I could spend nearly half my life going along not knowing, nor even thinking that anything was wrong, missing. But then why should I - I had all the things that everyone wants - love, security, family - what more could there be to want?

I found out one morning about a year or so ago, a morning that changed the rest of my life!

But, to begin at the beginning.

I met Mitchell, my husband, at university, where we were both doing Architecture, he very seriously - as he does everything. I had originally wanted to go to Technical College, to study Interior Design and Decorating but my parents and most of my friends said I had to go to University, like everyone else. So there I was, plodding along, finding that I was having quite a lot of difficulty even in the first year. Mitchell sort of came to the rescue - helping me with the Maths and the technical side of the subject. He was nice, good-looking, well-dressed and well-mannered. His people obviously had money and he had come from one of the best schools. My parents thought he was wonderful! So we soon started going around together.

He was comfortable to be with, not at all demanding and I suppose that at that time, what with the transition from school to University and having trouble with my subjects, I already had enough things making demands, so someone like Mitchell was all too easy to just go along with.

I'd had boy-friends before of course, going out with one in particular right up until I started University - and he had been very demanding! I lost my virginity with him - that's a stupid description, 'lost', I knew exactly what I was doing and loved it! For over a year we had a very active sex-life, for teen-agers that is.

But Mitchell wasn't like that. Peter, my previous boy, had his hands all over me whenever we were alone - and often when we weren't, I loved that too! It was really exciting, feeling my body get aroused by his touch, then touching him and watching him get aroused as well - I felt alive, vibrant, whenever we were together. So we seemed to spend half our time planning how and where we could go to so that we could make love - and you can be sure that we made as many opportunities as we could.

With Mitchell a kiss and a hug seemed enough, for him!

When we first started going out together I guess I expected him to be the same way as Peter had been, I mean you are always hearing that 'men are only after one thing', aren't you - Mitchell wasn't, much to my disappointment!

I don't mean he wasn't affectionate, we held hands a lot, loved walking with our arms around each other - I used to like to wedge my fingers down into his back pocket, so I could feel his bum moving under them as we walked. He was a wonderful kisser, soft and lingering and he used to simply thrill me the way he would kiss my eyes, ears and neck, as well as my lips.

After we had had a night out and been kissing and hugging in the car, I would get so hot that later I used to have to lie on my bed and masturbate like mad to relieve the pressure - wondering if he was doing the same thing to himself, I liked to think that he was! I began to think that either he was just that much better at controlling the fire, that I felt sure must be burning inside him than I was able to control the one inside me - or that he had some misguided thoughts about respecting my 'honour' Thinking that way, I decided I had better let him know that I wanted him as much as I assumed he wanted me.

So one night, after we had been to a party and were parked somewhere, kissing madly - I dropped my hand down into his lap, feeling for the erection that I knew must be there. In fact I was longing to see as well as feel his cock, I suppose in a way I wanted to compare it with Peter's that I had known so well and which had given me so much pleasure. Sure enough, there it was - and it felt good for the brief moment I was allowed to actually hold it. But then he stopped me! He didn't get angry, more hurt than anything else, saying it was difficult enough for him to show his respect for me, without my 'teasing' him like that. I was confused and, I suppose I began to think there was something wrong with me!

Anyway, I pushed it to the back of my mind, managing to suppress the urges that continued to rise up inside me and resorted to solitary masturbation when the pressure actually got too much - having to make do with my memories of how Peter had felt inside me.

I thought things would be different when we were engaged, we had progressed to talking about marriage by then and there were preparations for a formal engagement, then planning the actual wedding that was to be the following year.

Talking and planning, talking and planning - that's all we seemed to do, for an entire year! Don't get me wrong, I was very happy, everything was wonderful, we had none of the problems that other kids at University had - our families were reasonably well-off, there would be an apartment of our own, Mitchell's father would continue his allowance, mine was going to take care of other bills - so we could live very comfortably while we finished our degrees.

It was to be a big wedding, honeymoon in Europe, our own car waiting for us when we got back, everything - what more could I want? I know now that what I wanted was for Mitchell to show me he wanted me as much as I needed him - wanted me so much that he would have taken me by force if necessary, or if not, at least let me take him!

But it didn't happen and what with all the planning, organising and the million and one things to do, those thoughts gradually got pushed deeper and deeper down and I consoled myself more and more often with the thought, 'when we are married'.

But then, the overseas trip, though absolutely marvellous was tiring with the strain of the travel and sight-seeing, then there was a round of parties and family visits when we returned, the apartment to settle into and of course, our studies. Not that we didn't make love, of course we did and it was good - but!

Mitchell was attentive, always made sure I was aroused before he entered me, and was prepared to try a few positions other than the 'missionary', at first anyway. But he never seemed to feel the fire that I did and in time I came to believe it really was me that was wrong - so continued to push down those 'nasty' thoughts that continued to pop into my head - although they became less and less frequent as time went by.

After he graduated Mitchell joined his father's company, the children arrived, a house was bought, then his parents died and we moved into what had been his family home. Then remodelling the house, which I really did enjoy, kept me busy for another year or so - then normal life, friends, parties, holidays, school for the children, etc., etc. So the years slipped by - and all that time I was, to all appearances, happy

Then, that one morning, it all changed!

Chapter 2

The Questionnaire

It was one of those rare days when I had absolutely nothing planned. No morning coffee or lunch with friends, no tennis, no nothing. It was only after I had got Mitchell off to work and the children to school that I actually realised I had an empty day ahead of me, not even the cleaning lady or the gardener were due.

I remember sitting in the kitchen, having a cup of coffee after I had cleared away the breakfast things, sitting wondering just what on earth I was going to do with myself. I wandered about the house for a bit, tidying up here and there and ended up in the bedroom, idly going through the things in my wardrobe and for no particular reason, decided to try on a new outfit I had just bought for myself.

It was a new style, that I had seen a couple of my trendier friends wearing, one that reminded me of something I had worn when I was in my mid-teens. A round skirt, with lots of gores, they had been enormous when I was young and we used to wear layers and layers of petticoats under them. The new version was more practical but cut along similar lines, with a very pretty series of bands of embroidery running around it. I had a white, scoop-necked blouse to wear with it, the earlier ones had been very frilly, sort of a 'peasant' style, but the latest were, like the skirt, more simple, more elegant I thought.

Standing in front of the mirror, looking at the effect, I found myself thinking back to the girl I had been, and of the summer when I had last worn the previous outfit.

I could see the boy's face but at first couldn't remember his name. It had been a disturbing, exciting summer. My first, proper boy-friend. My first, proper kiss. And all the wicked and wonderful things that had followed on from that kiss!

'Jimmy!' I suddenly remembered his name, it was Jimmy!

We hadn't had sex, I was still too young and scared for that - but we had done just about everything else. I could still vividly recall the feeling of his fingers touching my still forming breasts and then, later the gentle touch of them high up between my legs, between my thighs. I remembered the strange and exciting feelings his hands had given me - and as the memories returned I let my own hands slip up beneath my skirt, stroking my thighs as Jimmy had done, moving slowly closer to my sex, again, just as Jimmy's had.

I remembered too the first time I had been brave enough to reach for his sex, his 'dick'.

Of course the school had made sure there was no real mystery about penises and vaginas, we thought we knew all there was to know about what they were, what they did and even the problems they cause for young people. I even knew a couple of girls my own age who had 'done it'. But still, nice girls didn't - and though I wasn't too sure whether I wanted to be 'nice' or not, I was definitely too scared to 'do it'.

But I did want to see and touch him the way he touched me and I wanted to make him feel as wonderful as he made me feel when his fingers teased that little bud and sent me off to heaven!

We had been swimming most of the afternoon and were lying, resting between some rocks and must have fallen asleep. I woke up to find the sun getting very low in the sky and noticed that just about everyone else had left the beach already. Then, when I looked across at Jimmy, still asleep beside me, I saw from the way his swim-suit bulged, that his cock had become swollen and stiff. I was fascinated! And even more so when I looked more closely and found that was because it was pressing so firmly against it I could actually make out the outline of the head of it through the material. I checked around to be certain that there wasn't anyone around us, then, very tentatively reached over and touched it. It was hard, as I knew it would be, hard and warm. It was now or never I decided!

I moved over and lay down close beside him and as I started to kiss him, to wake him up, began to fondle the hard length.

He was awake in no time and when he felt what I was doing, helped me, stripping down his swim-suit so I could get my fingers around him properly. I probably wasn't very good that first time, holding him too tightly and not doing much except pump it - but it felt great and I remember how wet I got from finally being able to see it and feel the strength of it. And my over-eager technique couldn't have been too bad because in a very short time he came, shooting his 'jism', as he called it, all over my hands.

Having done it once I looked forward to doing it for him whenever I got the chance. I particularly loved getting him aroused when we were out in public, where he had to try to hide the swell of it, then find a hidden corner somewhere where I could get him to shoot off for me.

Then the sound of the door-bell brought me back to reality!

I pulled myself back out of my day-dream, amazed at how powerful it had been and, very conscious of the still warm dampness between my thighs, straightened my skirt and went down to answer it.

At first I thought it was Jimmy - he reminded me so much of him, I'm sure I just stood there like an idiot for a while, thinking to myself - 'Jimmy, grown-up and come back for me!'

It wasn't of course, to start with he was younger than Jimmy would have been but he looked as I imagined Jimmy would have at the same age. I couldn't believe the coincidence - fifteen minutes earlier I couldn't even remember his name!

The man was talking to me but I missed half of what he said gathering only that he was with a research company, doing a community programme of some sort. He could have been selling plots of land on the moon, I would have still asked him in, as I did.

He seemed nice, Grant not Jimmy, was his name, I took him into the kitchen and had him start at the beginning again while I made us some coffee. It was a survey of people's attitudes to a variety of subjects; politics, religion, current affairs, that kind of thing. I still only half listened I'm afraid, I just couldn't get over how much he reminded me of Jimmy. He told me it was a very long questionnaire, taking over an hour and he mentioned something about a secondary, very personal section, about sexual attitudes, that one was purely optional. I agreed to everything, 'Jimmy' could ask me whatever he liked, particularly since for as long as I had been sitting there, close to him, the nice warm feeling between my legs had remained.

On any other day there would have been no way I could have sat, answering all the questions he had on his questionnaire, my interest in world affairs, politics and religion is strictly limited and my answers probably demonstrated as such. But I did it because all the time I had a strange feeling that I was somehow waiting for something, for exactly what, I had no idea, but whatever it was it was something I didn't want to miss.

Eventually he showed he was coming to the end of the main questionnaire and I noticed that he got quite nervous as he then began on the second part of the survey. He'd been right when he'd said it was 'personal', he started by asking me about when I first kissed a boy, let a boy touch me, when I first touched him. I wanted to say - 'It was you Jimmy, you!'

Then he went on and asked me about my first, full sexual encounter - that was Peter, when I was eighteen and I told him how we had gone together for about a year and a half, making love at every opportunity we had, or could create.

Just talking about Peter also brought back strong memories. How I used to get wet from just thinking about him - how I could no more keep my hands off him than he could keep his off me - how much I had loved feeling that way. And it made me realise just how long it had been since I had experienced those feelings of real excitement.

Then Grant started to ask me about my marriage and how things were between Mitchell and me. As I answered him I realised that I was finally putting into words things that I hadn't even admitted to myself - including just how dissatisfied I was and, had always been with our sex life!

It was as though I was pouring out my heart to my long-lost Jimmy.

I don't know how long I talked for but the next thing I clearly remember is hearing him speak my name again, after all these years and feeling his hands on my knees as he knelt in front of me. Then he kissed me!

Something inside of me broke free - Jimmy-Peter-Grant was kissing me and I was kissing them-him back, hard - it had been so long, so very, very long! Before I realised it, his hands were under my skirt, they felt hot against my skin, moving slowly as they always had done, slowly moving closer and closer and I felt a sudden sweet rush of wetness flowing from me in anticipation.

Then the most incredibly wonderful thing happened, after he had got my panties off, he began to kiss me, kiss my sex! Nobody, not Jimmy, not Peter and certainly not Mitchell had ever done that. I couldn't believe how much like heaven it really felt, I wanted him to never stop - but then I went off like a rocket!

Afterwards we went upstairs and made love together - and that was even better! I know I made enough noise about it and was grateful that we didn't have a neighbour close enough to hear me. We talked, made love again and then I thought I had better let him go, before the children came home from school.

He said he wanted to see me again and the new me certainly wanted a repeat performance. But as my first headlong rush had by then calmed a little I realised that I needed time; time to think through what was happening to me, time to sort out the confused whirl of thoughts in my head, so instead of just saying yes and arranging another time and place, I took his phone number and said I would call him in a day or two.

Chapter 3

Choices

After he'd gone I tried to understand what had happened and what it all meant, to me and perhaps to Mitchell and my family too. Then I remembered something Grant had said to me - 'Jane, it's never too late. It's always your own life, to do with as you choose. If you need to take a little pleasure for yourself and you can do it without hurting anybody else - why not?

'Why not indeed!' I thought.

As I thought more about it I realised that as the years had gone by I must have been pushing my basic, physical needs deeper and ever deeper. Now, like a freshly tapped spring they were gushing up, violently. That night I tried to stir Mitchell, hoping that he might actually have some inner fire that I could perhaps kindle with my rediscovered body. But no - it was hard enough to even tempt him to make love, it was mid-week, he had an important meeting the following day, it was late, he was tired!

When I finally I got him half interested and tried to excite him further by taking his penis in my mouth, he nearly had a fit! It was excuse enough for him to forget about sex for that night so as he slept I lay beside him, fingering myself to a less that satisfactory climax while in my head I replayed the events of the day.

The following morning, when I had the house to myself I sat and thought seriously about what I was going to do. I knew that Grant was there on the end of the phone - and I also knew that sooner or later I would pick it up, ring and arrange to meet him. But, maybe selfishly, I also felt sure that the one thing I did not want as yet was to get involved in any kind of relationship that might threaten what I already had; children, family, home and security. Rediscovering my old sexual self was one thing, throwing away everything I had devoted my life to up until that point was quite another.

As I thought that through I suddenly realised what it was that I actually wanted - just some honest to goodness sex! The real question was, how best to get it with the minimum of risk to my normal life.

Of course the simple solution would have been to just pick up the phone and ring Grant, but something held me back from doing that. Maybe it was that I thought that by doing so I might create some kind of commitment, or at least an expectation of one in Grant's mind. A one off event could be put down to a sudden rush of blood, or hormones, or something, but setting up a second might lead to his anticipation of something more in the future. At that stage I was so unsure of the new feelings I was experiencing that the last thing I wanted was to create a complexity that I wasn't ready to deal with.