Tanya woke up dreaming, but the dream vanished as soon as she was awake. She sense that she was being touched all over. There was a hand---or hands---caressing her breasts, her thighs, her ass.
Don't stop
, she thought, shyly. But what reason did she have to be shy, alone in her bed?
Lately, she'd started going to bed wearing only her panties. It felt new, but in a pleasurable way. Before her husband died, she was used to pajamas or long nightshirts. Even with her husband, the first man she'd had sex with, she felt some kind of decorum was in order. Now, a year after, she luxuriated in the warmth of the sheet, how the fabric felt against her body. Her nipples were hard, as if still seeking the touch of whoever was taking care of her in her dream. She began lazily caressing her nipples with her right hand and slid the left just under her panties. She liked making herself wait, of imagining how a man might take care of her. If only there were one in her bed.
Her phone buzzed, thrusting her out of her reverie. Keeping her left hand under her panties, she thumbed the phone unlocked. Thirteen notifications from the dating app, most of them from men she'd never want to hear from again.
Nice tits. Do u swallow? Can I cum on your face on the first date or do you wait for the second?
Her girlfriend had warned her about how men behaved on the app, but she wasn't prepared for how raunchy and dim the vast majority of men were. She canceled the app two days after she signed up for it.
But then, a week later...she came back. She was shocked at what the men said, but there was also something thrilling about the attention. There were men---lots of men---who found her desirable. Who thought her full tits and round ass weren't flabby but desirable, even preferable. Who saw her sweet small smile and glasses and saw an attractive woman. This was new, wholly unlike what she had long thought of herself and her body. Even if some of those guys were desperate and texted everyone, a lot of them seemed to like her for her. And a good number of them weren't so crude.
This one, this morning, Carl, was one of them. He was her age, sweet, flirty. He said he "wasn't looking for anything serious," just like her.
Are we still on at 10?
he'd texted.
Tanya's hand had slid deeper into her panties. She was wet already---sometimes she felt like her pussy was wet all the time, now---and she began slowly massaging her clit with a finger. She texted back:
Y
. Then, feeling like she hadn't said enough, that just one letter might suggest she was being dismissive, she added a smile emoji. Except she'd clicked on the wink emoji instead. So be it, she thought to herself, and put the phone down and began to fingerfuck herself in earnest.
**
Just once
. That's what she told herself when she started what she called
exploring.
She wasn't ready for a relationship, wasn't even ready for dating. But she thought she would test out the idea that men might find her as desirable as they said. She scheduled a coffee date with one of the men from the app who wrote in complete sentences---a man ten years younger than her, barely out of college. She dressed conservatively for it, in a maxi dress. But it clung to her, and she couldn't hide her curves. She was almost vibrating with nervousness as she drove to the coffee shop.
The young man was a little cocky, but she liked that. He asked her about how she liked the dating app, and she was vague in her answers---her last relationship had recently ended, she was excited to get back to dating. But the look on his face across the table was plainly full of desire, even lust. He was looking at her and wanting her. Amazing.
"Why don't we sit in my car and talk?" he asked. She nodded.
Soon enough they were kissing, making out in his car in the half-empty parking lot. Somehow, without her noticing, he'd released his cock from his jeans. He guided her hand on it. She didn't resist. His precum was leaking down his shaft. Should she have stopped him? She might have said that this was only the second cock she'd ever touched, beside her husband's. But staying silent, just doing this, felt so right. Or not right enough---if only he could do more in this small car of his! She stroked and stroked and he looked in her eyes until he was overpowered by her attention. Then he came, spunk oozing all over her hand, some of it landing on her dress. She took a tissue and wiped some of it off her hand, but she also licked some of the cum off. Warm and sticky---she loved how tangible desire could be, that there was evidence of it.
He wrapped up, kissed her, and after a moment it was clear he wanted her to leave. Didn't even touch her under her skirt, though her pussy was aching for touch. It's OK, she told herself, heading to her car. This must be the walk of shame she'd heard so much about. It was just once. She wanted to know what it was like, and now she knew.
It was strange, but nice. Surely there was more, and that it could be better.
A week later she was at a man's apartment, sucking his cock on his couch. This time her pussy got taken care of first: He'd gotten on his knees, lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties, and licked and sucked her until she came. She banished her anxiety over the thickness of her thighs, of making herself so open to somebody she'd known for two days and had spent less than an hour with in person. As she shuddered and came, she clutched his hair, putting the feel of it in her memory banks. She did the same with his cock as she sucked it---bigger than her first man's, uncut, somehow more confident than the cock she'd stroked the week before.
Just once
, she thought as he came in her mouth. So much cum! Some of it spilled onto her chin. That was new too.
The months that followed were defined by more of her
exploring
, more of these
just once
situations that she came to think of as part of her life yet separate from it. Because it was
just once
. She let an 19-year-old man---19!---cum all over her tits
just once
