Barbara climbed into the shower and let the cooling jets of water stream over her body. Her nipples jumped up, and she ran her long fingers over them enjoying the sensation of water over the puckered, pink skin around her lengthening nipples. She had noticed that they were much longer and harder than they used to be when she was a teenager. Just another one of the many changes adulthood and motherhood and brought on.
A balanced diet, daily tennis and healthy genetics had given Barbara a fine body for a woman in her late 30s. While it was true that she was far heavier than she had been in high school, she knew she wore the extra weight well. It had ended up mainly in her voluminous tits and bountiful ass. In high school, it had been her long legs and taut ass in tight jeans that had driven the boys crazy, but now she enjoyed the way men eyed her majestic melons when she walked by. It was only recently that she had even started referring to her breasts as ‘melons’ when she thought of them. She held them in her hands as she stood in the shower that evening, and took pleasure in their mass, the slight sag and the way they filled her hands.
She picked up the seaweed soap and ran it over her body, remembering how Miguel, the tennis pro at the club, had been staring at her cleavage all afternoon while she was on the court. She ran the soap between her thighs and down to her feet as she remembered bending down to pick up the balls in front of him. As she leaned forward to soap her feet, she felt her boobs pulling down, as they had done on the court. When she had looked up, she had seen Miguel captivated by her tits. She had let him look his fill, before straightening up and serving. He had looked with unbridled lust, lust which now made her feel a heat rise between her legs. He had wanted her melons in his mouth, and right now she would have gladly allowed him his desire, allowed him to grab her tits, run his hands roughly around them as she was with her soapy hands, and place her delectable offerings in his hot, Latino mouth.
Barbara liked the feel of her own hands on her boobs, soapy and slippery all over the massive globes, but she liked it even more when she imagined Miguel’s hands and mouth on them. She pinched her nipples imagining how he would bite her titties after ripping off her sweaty halter-neck T-shirt. She imagined going into his cabin at the club, having his juicy lips on hers and then working his way down to maul her breasts. He sucks tightly on her rubbery nipples while snaking a hand under her short tennis skirt into her sweaty panties. She ran the fingers of one hand down her belly and around her pussy.
She imagined Miguel taking her into the shower in his cabin and having her stand in the shower as he stripped his toned body. She had seen him with his shirt off often and the mental image of his sinewy body made her weak at the knees. She sat down inside her bathtub, one hand still soaping her tits, while the other was meandering around the outer lips of her pouting pussy. Under his shorts, she had seen Miguel was packed powerfully, so she imagined his dark, long cock bursting out of his briefs.
He walks toward her and turns her around so she is facing the tile wall. She can feel his cock against her back, the red head, swollen and smooth as he rubs it against her. He runs his fingers inside her wet panties and feels for her asshole, her cunt, her clit. He rips her panties off in one action, shredding the lacey fabric. She turns around and grabs his obscenely erect shaft in her long fingers and moves his foreskin up and down as he fingers her pussy. They kiss, long, hard, lots of tongue. She is already moaning.
Barbara had her fingers firmly inside her pussy by now, her legs spread wide over the edge of the tub. Two fingers of one hand rub the insides of her cunt while the soapy finger now rubs her clit.
She imagines Miguel dropping to his knees and spreading her ass with his large hands. He licks the fleshy outer labia, nibbling on them. He then grabs her ass and thrusts his tongue deep inside, delighting in her cunty flavors. His tongue is long, thick and stimulates her deep inside until she begs him to tongue her clit also. He allows his tongue to wander around her pubes before finding her exposed, swollen nub. He licks it softly at first, then harder and harder until she is begging him to suck it. He allows one finger to drop to her sensitive asshole, and works it inside.
The touch of her own finger on her sphincter makes Barbara moan with pleasure. She can feel her pussy swell as she rubs her clit faster. She knows she will come any minute, the image of Miguel sucking her clit and fingering her ass well formed in her imagination.
A knock on her bathroom door disturbs her masturbatory reverie, “Senora, your dress is ready and is in on your bed.”
“Damn! Damn, damn bad luck, damn!” Barbara swore as she felt her orgasm disappear. It had been weeks since she had felt horny enough to work herself up so close to cumming. She stood up, grabbed the soap and finished her bath, soaping her bare underarms, her breasts, belly, her legs and between them, but the pleasure was gone. She draped her towel around her and walked into her bedroom.
She sat down naked in front of the full-length mirror and opened her legs and examined her own body. Her belly bulged slightly when she sat down, but her legs were still shapely. She looked between them at her pussy and ran one dry finger over the fleshy mound around the opening. She held the lips apart and ran another finger over the delicate, smooth pinkness inside, and looked at her sparse bronze pubic hair. She was a natural blonde like all the women in her family, but like all the ones she knew, her pubes were much darker than the hair on her scalp.
She ran her hand through the thin hair growing in a fine triangle above her clit. Barbara did not like shaving her pussy, it made the area rough – more appropriate on a man’s face, she thought. She also liked having some hair around there to enhance her natural odor. Some women were uncomfortable with their own cunt aroma, but not Barbara. She loved inhaling her own perfumes during arousal, during foreplay and sex. But she also liked to keep herself well trimmed for the days by the club pool when her bikini was far more daring than most women her age wore. She took her tiny pair of scissors – her pube shears, she called them – and clipped off a few strands that were growing too long. If anyone had cared to look at Barbara’s naked crotch, there was a small arrow of hair pointing down to her sensitive, long-ignored clitoris.
Tonight she was off to another charity event, a dinner-dance organized by the Women’s Association where she was the fund-raising chairperson. Her son was at summer basketball camp, and her husband, Walt, was out of town so she would be single at the dinner and dance. He hated these events anyway, and over the past years had found himself busy whenever she had to go out. His current trip was, he said, a golf trip. She knew it involved more booze than golf, and possibly a few women as well. She was long past caring about Walt’s infidelities, but wished she could have more in her own life than her own fingers groping inside her to images of naked tennis instructors.
“Maybe, tonight I will get lucky,” she smiled, knowing that the chances of getting laid after one of these stodgy affairs were slim. Still, she sprayed her favorite perfume between her ‘melons’, on her belly and other places she wanted a man to touch her. She pulled on a pair of black thong panties and looked at her rounded ass cheeks on either side of the thin black fabric. Maybe she could let Miguel get a grope of her ass next time she played tennis with him.
She pulled her dark blue, silky evening dress over her head. She loved the high slit in this one that exposed her smooth white flesh from her black pumps to nearly her hips. She left her tits bra-less, hoping it would not be too obvious when she was at the podium introducing the guest of honor.
She climbed into her BMW and drove out of town as this year the dinner-dance was at a place called the Mountain Lodge, a great place for such events, on the hillside. She drove thinking about tonight’s guest of honor. Every year the association chose the most generous donor and this year’s star donor, Ryan Winter, was an intriguing man. Still a bachelor at 35, he had made his money in some mysterious overseas business dealings, and had then come and settled down in their quite town. All she knew about him was that he donated a fixed percent of his company’s revenues annually, and this year that had placed him in the chief guest’s seat next to her.
