An intro from Jayne,
Whilst not essential as I believe this stands alone by itself as an erotic adventure, I do recommend that you read the earlier parts of the story before plunging into this.
The period after a marriage breaks down when the parties start living apart is strange. I know as I have been going through it for the past year or so. In my case that year was a period of celibacy for me. The previous parts of this account explain how I dealt with that celibacy. This part deals with how I handled ending the celibacy and celebrating my divorce with my first sex.
First dates.
After the trauma of my first sex as a single woman being with my ex-husband, I knew that I couldn't keep letting him fuck me. As enjoyable and surprising as that one had been, and as much as he may have wanted me to be his go to fuck when he had no other women, particularly young twenty somethings which are his penchant, on the go, I knew that I couldn't be that and that I had to get my sexual act together. The year of online erotic revelry also had to end. I couldn't go on being a cyber junky and getting my rocks off online. I knew reality had to play a part, the questions were when and how?
Fortunately, I had some opportunities to seek pastures new. I was a member of both a tennis and a golf club, I had recently joined a book reading group, I was back in the business world making new contacts and I had a reasonably sized group of girl friends who had been offering during my celibacy period to fix me up on dates. However, before possibly trying to enjoy any of the social opportunities of those I had to recognise the environment I lived in as a divorcee. From my general social life, I had learned quickly how separated and divorced women have a reputation.
We are thought of as being free from social and sexual constraints and can go with who we wish, when we wish and do what we wish with them. Clearly, most men know full well that we are continuously gagging for it and they are just the one to 'help us out!' Also, I was amazed to find so many who had always fancied me and whose wives just don't understand them. Naturally, all female divorcees have enormous sex drives, know exactly what they want and are keen to get laid as and when they want. At the same time, we are considered by many wives to be husband snatchers who are up for anything and are not to be trusted in the company of their men and, of course, we all have the morals of alley cats!
My very first real date was arranged by a good friend. She was in a relationship, though wasn't married, as she'd got divorced a few years back after some fifteen years or so of marriage. She invited us both to dinner at her house in London and suggested on the phone that I travel by cab saying, "Then you and Martin can share one home as he lives in Greenwich and will go your way."
The meal went well as did the cab home and the brief kiss on the cheek outside my apartment complex after we'd exchanged numbers and emails and had agreed on another date. He emailed a few days later thanking me for being a nice dinner companion and asked if I'd like to do it again soon with just the two of us. I emailed back that I'd be delighted to do that and suggested he call me which he did the day after receiving my email showing that he was in no hurry which rather impressed me. During the call he invited me to his house saying that he would cook dinner, a very 2020s man's thing, I later realised.
In the two days before the date, my mind had been on little else. I wasn't at all sure that I really wanted to go on it at all and if I did just what I would do. Do in this situation meant sexually. Although other than with Kevin a few weeks ago just days after the divorce came through, I had not been on a date for nigh on twenty-five years, I assumed that having dinner at his home would involve a degree of intimacy. I was acutely aware that we'd be alone in his house for several hours and I guessed that nowadays people of our ages didn't go by the old-fashioned rules that stipulated hardly any sexual activity on the first couple of dates and full sex not before the fourth.
I just could not get my head around whether I would go to bed with him if that was proposed. On the one hand I wanted to. I was missing sex and all that Kevin had done was make me want to have another man. I needed to know whether I would be able to respond to and accept his advances. Whether I would become aroused and indeed, whether I would be able to have an orgasm? I'd had no physical contact with a man, other than that Sunday lunch with Kevin for so long and, although I had found relief and a degree of satisfaction from other means, I knew that I was enormously frustrated. I was also concerned at that just as I had been when getting ready to meet my ex-husband, I was worried that I would appear rather inexperienced and that I might climax too quickly and make a sexual fool of myself. Was dating worth it I began to wonder?
Countering all this, though, was my natural reticence. I had never given myself away easily, I'd never had a one-night stand and I didn't want to start this new period of my life as being an easy lay! But therein I realised there may be a problem as I was beginning to think that was exactly what I was becoming, an easy lay. On top of that, although I liked him and did, as far as things had gone, quite fancy him, I didn't know whether this would transmit itself into the sort of sexual chemistry that I felt would be necessary to have good sex with him. I was out of touch with seduction. It had been so long that the outlook that seems to have become quite natural nowadays of, 'we get on well so we fuck' had never been part of my thinking.
So, in a quandary I had packed Sara who was home for the school holiday, off for the night as opposed to having a friend in, just in case I stayed over. As I was getting ready, I was like a schoolgirl on a first date. I could not decide what to wear. Rejecting some things because I felt they were too sexy and others because they were too formal, I took ages to prepare myself. I bathed, washed my shoulder-length blonde hair, dried that and spent simply ages with my make-up and tried several pairs of glasses before settling on a pair with quite fashionable tortoiseshell frames that my daughter had told me looked sexy.
I felt that I had better dress with a view to being undressed later, so I paid special attention to my underwear.
Should it be seductive black or virginal white? Or a pastel colour in between? I pondered on the bra. Lacy, thin and see through so that should my nipples erupt, as they often did far too easily and without warning, they would be clearly visible through it and my top, or thicker and more supportive to create a more interesting and dramatic cleavage? Tights or stockings? I mused over these critical matters for ages? And then of course there was the panties. The modern, high-waisted cut acutely at the thighs type or, perhaps, a thong, maybe the one I hadn't worn for Kevin, or, possibly boy shorts or little bikini ones?
God the agonies of rejoining the dating game.
I eventually got myself to his house and we had a couple of drinks before he served me a well-prepared dinner which, as I felt so nervous, I hardly tasted. Although the atmosphere was easy between us, I couldn't really relax and I think that much of the time I was behaving rather out of character. Although some of the concerns I had were being reduced by the bottle or so of white wine that we drank, at the end of the meal, I got up and said that I would clear away but he wouldn't hear of it saying, "Leave it until the morning," which to my ears sounded as if he was expecting me to do it then!
Nevertheless, feeling surprisingly warm towards him I went round the table and I kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for the lovely meal. His hand reached out and rested on my hip as I bent over and my top of course gaped a little. His eyes, naturally I suppose, went down my top and he pulled me onto his lap. How many years had it been since I had sat on a lap and had a snog, I wondered as I felt a hardness against my hip in the thin, black leather trousers I had chosen!
We kissed for some time with his hands running up and down my back, outside the fairly loose, pink and grey cashmere sweater. That sent pleasant feelings through me. I felt comfortable and fairly at ease on his lap and showed no resistance when his went hands inside the sweater onto my bare back and slid up and down my spine going near to my bra strap. The intensity of his kiss increased and I responded. As his tongue searched deep into my mouth sending signals of his passion to me, my tongue touched his and pressed back against it. That obviously worked for slowly he moved his hand round to the front moving closer and closer to my breasts, but taking the time to gain my tacit approval at each stage.
Then lightly he touched one of them and it felt wonderful. The first time a new partner touches a woman intimately really is lovely and so arousing and this was no exception. They had not been caressed by anyone other than Kevin and me for such a time, so the feelings were even more intense and special. Whilst they were lovely, they were not of the mind-blowing intensity of those when Kevin did it to me as the first person other than me to fondle and caress them in over a year.
Slowly and gently, Martin stroked and rubbed me through the thin, black lace bra teasing the pink tip into a rock-hard protuberance. Feeling no resistance at all from me, he became more welcomingly adventurous easing his fingers inside one of the cups so that they were right on the nipple that once more exploded with feelings.
